


A Careful Appraisal

by Louise_Alexander



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Smut, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Romance, Women's Royal Naval Service (Wrens), World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2020-12-17 07:36:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21050693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louise_Alexander/pseuds/Louise_Alexander
Summary: Women's Royal Naval Service veterans Anne Lister and Ann Walker meet unexpectedly two years after the war.—————“I know we’ve met. During the war…”Ann knows that Lister will remember in a minute. Just for this moment, Ann is the only one with the clear memory of that sleety day, the shame, the furious tongue-lashing. And all that preceded it.Taking a shaky breath, Ann says, “You were my commanding officer at Scapa Flow.”————————————





	1. Friday

**Author's Note:**

> This story is dedicated to the memory of my late aunt, Miriam Laverick, who served in the Wrens, repairing aeroplane radios in Scotland, from 1944-46. She said she had never been so cold in her life.

**Chapter One: Friday**

Though Ann is wearing three jumpers over her cotton shirt, and two pairs of tights under her wool skirt, and the coal fire is glowing red, she feels she will never, ever be warm again. She feels that she has been cold continuously for four years.

Shivering slightly, she bends again over the framed print she is measuring, and adds its dimensions to her notebook. Footsteps echo outside in the hallway. Hearing them, her faithful Alsatian, Freddy, lifts his head and whuffles, his tail thumping the threadbare green carpet. 

The door from the hallway opens, bringing in a small wave of even colder air, and James steps in with a tray.

“Thank you so much, James,” she says gratefully to the gardener. He is serving nowadays as general manservant, doing all sorts of odd jobs, since the staff was decimated by the war. Ann is grateful beyond words for James and his wife Polly, who cooks basic but mostly edible meals for all of them, dealing imaginatively with such annoyances as the rationing of potatoes, of all things.

“The missus says I'm to make sure you drink the coffee while it’s still hot, Miss,” he replies, setting it down on the tea table. “Remembering yesterday, when it nearly froze before you tried to drink it.”

He goes over to the grate to check the coal scuttle. “I’ll bring you in a bit more coal, shall I, Miss?” he asks, not waiting for an answer, and carries the scuttle out.

Ann, glad of the distraction of mid-morning coffee, is still considering the small selection of gritty-looking cakes provided by Polly, and wondering which one to slip to Freddy, when James re-enters with a full scuttle of coal in one hand and a letter in the other.

“Here’s the morning post, Miss,” he says, handing her the letter and setting the brass scuttle down beside the fire. “Will there be anything else?” he asks, glancing at the mess the sitting-room is in, with three trestle tables covered in dust sheets, and on top of them, small piles of odd little sculptures and stacks of paintings in heavy ornate frames. 

“Oh, no thank you, James. Please, you and Polly go and enjoy your weekend. I’ll be quite all right.”

“Thank you, Miss, and you do the same. The missus has made a nice pie out of that rabbit I shot; it’s in the larder and she said to remind you about it so you can heat some up for your tea.”

“Oh, lovely, thank her for me, would you please?”

“Of course, Miss.” He squints at the tall French windows that lead to the back garden. “It’s clear outside for the moment. You might want to take Freddy for his walk sooner rather than later -- the wireless is calling for rain this afternoon.”

“I’ll take your advice, James, thank you so much,” she says as cheerfully as she can. She knows the servants take an almost familial concern about her welfare now that her parents, whom she misses every moment, have both died. And she knows that they worry all the more about her now that they live down in the village instead of in Lydgate House, coming up for just a few hours every weekday. “Goodbye now, see you on Monday then.”

“Thank you, Miss. Please do telephone us if you need anything at all.” The servant touches his greying forelock, and walks out.

Ann, fingering the envelope, moves closer to the fire. She is aware of the encroachment of feelings of dread: another cold, dark, lonely November weekend lies ahead, with only Freddy and the wireless for company. Perhaps she will take a walk to the pub in the village on Saturday evening, to spend a couple of hours reading a novel and trying to keep her various griefs at bay. She sighs deeply.

Ann looks at the envelope. Smudged a little with coal dust from James’ hand, it nonetheless is obviously of high quality, on stiff, rich, cream-coloured stationery. “Halifax Art Appraisers,” the envelope proclaims. Inside, a plain white card holds a brief message.

In a firm hand, it says: 

“Dear Miss Walker, Thank you for your enquiry regarding the valuation of your late uncle’s paintings and objets d’art. We would be very pleased to meet with you and conduct a preliminary survey of the scope of the project. We will then be able to supply you with an estimate of our cost for undertaking a complete appraisal. Please telephone at your earliest convenience to set a time for this purpose. Most sincerely...” and there follows a scrawled signature that is completely illegible.

Impulsively, Ann carries the card out to the hallway. She hears the kitchen door opening and then closing below her, and two slow sets of footsteps belonging to James and Polly echo on the stones of the courtyard and then fade into the distance. She and Freddy are now alone yet again in the big dark house.

Though she is terribly shy on the telephone, she reflects that she truly does need help with this burdensome job. She resolutely picks up the heavy black receiver and asks the operator to dial the company. The pips sound and almost immediately, a woman’s lively, low-pitched, distinctly Yorkshire voice proclaims in her ear, “Halifax Art Appraisers, how may I be of service?”

“Um, hello, this is Miss Walker at Lydgate House. I received your card --“

The voice interrupts cheerfully. “Good Lord, that was awfully fast -- I just posted it yesterday at four fifty-three.”

For a moment, Ann is nonplused. The voice sounds terribly familiar, but she can’t place it. “Yes, well, I’d love to have someone come and have a look at these things my late uncle collected.”

“‘Art and other objects,’ I believe your letter said.”

“Yes, I hardly know what to call some of these...things.”

The voice deepens even more as its owner chuckles appreciatively. “Well, I think I might be just the ticket, Miss Walker. This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve helped someone determine the value of an estate in which the passion for acquisition may have overwhelmed the caution of discernment.”

Ann snorts, dimly realizing it is the first time she has laughed in a long time. “How soon can you come and take a look?”

“Tomorrow afternoon around...three?”

“Really? On a Saturday?”

“If it suits you, Miss Walker -- otherwise...”

“No, no, it’s perfect, please come then. If you can.”

“Three,” says the woman decisively.

“I’ll be looking for you then. You know your way?”

The woman chuckles again, sending a small electric charge down Ann’s spine. Where, oh where, has she heard this voice before?

“Of course, Miss Walker, everyone for miles around knows Lydgate.”

“See you around three, then. Come and ring at the front door. If you hear barking, it means I’m on my way.”

“Really, Miss Walker, do you bark? How extraordinary.”

Ann laughs again. “My dog Freddy does.”

“Super. See you then.”

“Oh, just a moment — I forgot to ask your name.”

“How rude of me for not introducing myself -- I’m so sorry. It’s Lister. Anne Lister.”

“See you tomorrow, Mrs…”

“Miss.”

“Miss Lister.”

“It will be my great pleasure, Miss Walker, goodbye.”

As she replaces the telephone in its cradle, Ann realizes two things. 

The sun is actually peeking through the clouds for the first time in weeks.

And she remembers very well where she has heard that voice before. 

*********

As she puts on her trench coat, wraps a royal-blue scarf around her blonde hair, and whistles for Freddy, Ann is suddenly assaulted by a vivid barrage of sensory memories. Feet freezing on a muddy parade ground. The sting of an onslaught of sleet. The smell of wet wool from a hundred soaked uniforms. The furious shouts of an officer. Was that not the same voice? 

She steps outside into the fresh air, pulling the heavy oak door closed behind her, as Freddy trots ahead onto the path, sniffing at the lawn. Was the voice she had just heard on the phone -- Chief Officer Lister. That was it.

Ann moans aloud, causing Freddy to turn and cock his head at her. “Should I cancel, old boy? I think I should cancel. Don’t you?” Ann strides ahead, a surge of anxious energy driving her forward. 

After half an hour’s tramp under the trees and along the rocky lane, she is a bit calmer, and speaks to the dog again as the rain starts and they turn towards home.

“But why should I be afraid? The war’s over. It might be interesting to see her. Probably things are quite different now.”

The memories jump back into her mind. Chief Officer Anne Lister. Three years ago. Shouting at her. Making her cry in front of all the other Wrens. And other memories, as well. Memories of yearning; memories of wondering.

She lets Freddy trot ahead as they arrive back at the house. She should cancel the appointment. And yet -- she is curious. 

Very curious indeed to see Chief Officer Lister again.

“Never mind, Freddy. I’m not afraid to see her.” She gulps as she opens the door and follows the dog inside. 

“Not _very_ afraid.” 


	2. Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann Walker and Anne Lister meet again after two years.

It is Saturday. Ann is very conscious that Anne Lister is coming this afternoon, and she fully intends to dress properly later for their appointment. Meanwhile, she has tied a ragged old scarf around her blonde tangles, and pulled on a ratty cardigan and a pair of paint-splashed but warm trousers. She will change into a skirt and decent jumper later. 

She and Freddy have gone for a vigorous morning walk, and returned, and she has set to work.

She has now started delving though Uncle Herbert’s massive collection of hunting prints. 

She forgot to eat breakfast and then remembered, and devoured the rabbit pie, which she expected would make her feel queasy — poor bunny! — but which turned out to be delicious, and has given her a surge of strength and energy for the day’s tasks.

She is dimly aware of the day moving on as she sorts through the massive pile of prints of fox hunters. She is feeling some success in this part of the project and can’t bear to stop working to go into the hall to look at the time. She is starting to get the prints sorted into several categories, from the badly damaged to the possibly redeemable, and is so glad to actually see some progress that she has failed to notice the light changing and her stomach rumbling. 

Suddenly, Freddy leaps to his feet, lets out a furious volley of barks that makes Ann’s heart almost stop, and scrambles toward the front door, his paws clattering and scratching on the wooden hall floor in his haste. Ann then hears a robust knocking on the door.

“It can’t be three already! It can’t be!” She catches a horrified glimpse of herself in the speckled old mirror hanging in the hallway as she rushes towards the front door where Freddy is barking nonstop, and tears off the rag she has tied her hair up with. Giving her hair a hopeless shake, she reaches Freddy, who is lurching at the door, shouts at him to stop, grabs his collar, and opens the door.

Sure enough, it is Chief Officer Lister, almost unrecognizable in an elegant sea-green suit and a wide grin. 

Grappling with the surging dog, Ann says “Sorry! Sorry! Please come in, sorry, this is Freddy.”

Miss Lister steps inside and shuts the door behind herself. 

“May I?” she asks, indicating the dog. Ann gingerly releases Freddy’s collar and Miss Lister bends down to eye level with him. She speaks softly into the dog’s pointy ear, caressing him firmly and thumping his ribs. His tail wags furiously, but he stops jumping. “What a good watchdog you are, protecting your mistress. Sit now, there’s a good lad.”

Almost immediately, Freddy stops barking, and after another moment under her confident hands, he sits, alert but quiet.

Ann stares. “You certainly have a way with dogs, Miss Lister! I thought he was going to knock you over.”

Miss Lister grins widely at her, and holds out her hand to Ann. “Miss Walker, I presume.”

Dazed, Ann shakes the warm, strong hand, and glances shyly into the glistening brown eyes whose gaze she had both feared and longed for in the Navy. “Yes,” she replies, her hand still grasping Miss Lister’s. There is a pause, and she remembers herself. “Oh, please do come in.”

Miss Lister starts to release Ann’s hand, then squeezes it again, looking deeply into Ann’s eyes with a puzzled, searching expression. “We’ve met before.”

Ann pulls her hand away, turns and says, “Let’s go into the drawing room, Miss Lister. It’s utter chaos, but at least there’s a fire.”

Followed by Freddy, the two women go into the drawing room. The dog flops onto the floor, grunts, and closes his eyes. They both laugh.

“I should offer you tea,” says Ann, noticing now Miss Lister’s sleek peacetime haircut, the chestnut hair hanging straight and shoulder-length in defiance of the fussy current fashion. She also notices the dove-grey raincoat over Lister’s arm and the beautiful brown leather briefcase slung over her left shoulder. “But I’m afraid the servants are off. I’ll make some in a moment.”

Miss Lister puts her case and raincoat down on an empty section of the nearest table and impulsively reaches out a hand as if she means to touch Ann, then stops and lets her hand fall back to her side. Her eyes are strained with the effort to remember.

“I know we’ve met. During the war…”

Ann knows that Lister will remember in a minute. Just for this moment, Ann is the only one with the clear memory of that sleety day, the shame, the furious tongue-lashing. And all that preceded it.

Taking a shaky breath, Ann says, “You were my commanding officer at Scapa Flow.”

Light dawns in Anne Lister’s eyes. She smiles, then looks troubled and disappointed. “Oh dear, I remember now -- I had to call you out for being absent without leave. I was rather harsh, wasn’t I? Gosh, it seems like a thousand years ago, doesn’t it." She pauses, frowning. “And I also remember…" She pauses. “You look so different now. You’ve lost weight. And your hair….” She stops again. “Look, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable -- I suppose I should send one of my colleagues to work with you, shall I? I’m dreadfully sorry that I didn’t recognize your name.” Lister goes to pick up her raincoat from the chair and Ann doesn’t even think. She grasps Lister’s raincoat and stops her. 

“No, no! It’s all right! I want you, not someone else. Please stay.”

“All right,” says Anne Lister, looking puzzled but then smiling again, letting go of her raincoat and patting Ann’s hand reassuringly. “Look here, I know it’s not my place, but why don’t we see about organizing some tea for ourselves?”

Ann laughs, now, in relief and embarrassment. “Of course. Come on, the kitchen’s this way. Perhaps you can help me light the gas. It always makes me jump when it pops.”

They go downstairs to the kitchen. Tea preparations ease them into a light conversation about dogs, the weather, the village, the continued rigours of rationing. And then they touch on their service together, the ships, the names of some of the officers, and Ann can see that Anne Lister is remembering everything now. Anne Lister listens attentively, almost reverently, to every word Ann says, urging her on with kind questions and comments. Ann is so happy for her company that she loses herself in the conversation, barely noticing that Anne Lister has lit the kitchen fire, turned on the gas stove, explored the larder, and pulled together the ingredients for a nice little meal. She has even located Cook’s chequered shawl hanging from a peg in the corner and draped it over Ann’s thin shoulders. 

Ann blissfully sips the last of her tea and swallows the last bite of cheese on the plate. “I’m warm for the first time in weeks, Miss Lister. You’re a miracle worker.”

Lister smiles and twitches an eyebrow. “That’s what they all say!” Then, serious again, “Good Lord, I’ve taken up your whole afternoon and I haven’t even taken a glance at your uncle’s things. What must you think of me?”

“I think you’re -- well, look, honestly, Miss Lister, I’m enjoying our conversation so much, and I’m dreading the scene in the drawing room so much, I wonder if we could let it go for today and try again on Monday? I think I’ll be braver then. Would that be all right?”

Miss Lister smiles warmly. “Of course it would. But only on one condition.”

Ann looks at her apprehensively. Lister chuckles. “You look almost afraid, Miss Walker! The condition is that you allow me to take you out to dinner one evening next week...” Ann starts to protest; Lister holds up a hand to stop her. “...so that we can relax and have an opportunity to continue this intriguing conversation -- and then perhaps we can continue on a more businesslike footing. Honestly, I’m so enjoying our talk -- and I feel I have a lot to make up for -- having dressed you down so thoroughly that awful time.”

“In front of the whole company,” Ann says softly.

Lister winces. “In front of the whole -- and it was raining, too, wasn’t it.”

“Sleeting,” says Ann. “And then you had me confined to quarters for two weeks.”

“Good Lord. I’m sure one restaurant dinner is not going to be anything near enough to erase that memory, but at least we can start there.”

“You know, it wasn’t my fault,” Ann blurts out, getting to her feet and pacing around the kitchen. “I wasn’t off the base through any decision of my own. Those men picked me up when I was on my way back from the north runway. They said they would drop me at barracks. But then they wouldn’t let me go.”

Anne Lister stares. “What men?”

“Three sailors. They kept me in their car for at least half an hour, teasing and joking with me. I begged them to drop me at barracks, but I think they meant to, um, force their attentions on me. I was quite frightened. Finally, the oldest one, who turned out to be a halfway decent chap, shamed the other two into letting me go. They chucked me out at the main gate and I ran all the way back but I was still late for muster.”

Anne Lister looks shocked to her core. “Good Lord, why on earth didn’t you tell me?”

“I did try, actually, but you seemed to have already made up your mind that I was a malingerer. I’d been a bit late to parade twice by then and you had me pegged, I suppose. I didn’t want to bother you, really.”

Lister buries her face in her hands for a moment, then looks up. “I suppose you were a bit afraid of me.”

Ann laughs. “Yes, a bit. We all were.” She remembers the fear, but she also remembers, even more vividly, the longing to have Chief Officer Lister look at her with approval. The longing to have an opportunity to work closely with Chief Officer Lister. The nights when, though exhausted from a twelve-hour shift repairing aeroplane radios in the freezing cold hangars or decrypting telegraphs in the silent, equally freezing radio sheds, she couldn’t sleep, thinking of Chief Officer Lister. The many nights in barracks when she silently touched herself to ecstasy, thinking of Chief Officer Lister’s lips and eyes and slim, strong hands.

And that one time when they worked on the codes together.

Lister stands and looks Ann in the eye. “Miss Walker. I am so -- most sincerely -- sorry. Would you please accept my apology, three years late as it is?”

Ann smiles. “Of course.”

Lister smiles ruefully and grips Ann’s shoulders. “Really awfully, awfully sorry.” She releases Ann and steps back. “See you Monday, then? Tackle some of the artwork, and dinner at my favourite restaurant on Tuesday evening?” She searches Ann’s face.

Ann smiles. She knows she is blushing, but doesn’t much care. “I’ll try to look halfway respectable when we go out.” 

“See that you do, Ordinary Wren Walker!”

“I'm looking forward to starting the work, Chief Officer Lister.”

“So am I, Miss Walker. Absolutely. Shall we start at ten? Good night, now. It really has been most extraordinary to see you again.” Ann is hoping rather forlornly for a kiss on the cheek, but there is Lister’s strong right hand in hers again, squeezing. And there is Lister trotting up the stairs, collecting her things, giving Freddy a final thump, and going out the front door with Ann close behind her.

“Good night!” Ann waves until Lister is in her car and driving away. Ann says softly to Freddy, “Now don’t let me forget. Ten o’clock Monday morning.”

She closes and bolts the front door and already knows she will have trouble sleeping tonight, and also knows she doesn’t much mind.


	3. Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet Sunday. An evocative memory.

Ann floats through the day in the sunniest mood she’s been in since -- when? Before the war? When her brother, Charlie, and their parents were here, making noise and laughter. Charlie’s friends running in and out, shouting, playing cricket on the back lawn in the long summer evenings, Freddy the puppy barking wildly, Mother playing the piano after supper, with Dad accompanying her on the viola -- she can’t bear to think too much about it.

So much has been lost. So many friends, boys she’d known from the village school, and girls as well, had gone off to war and here it was two years after the war was over and she was still expecting them all to come home, and of course now some of them never would. Charlie. His laugh that had so irritated her.

She decides to go to church, and sets off on foot to St. Matthew’s. She arrives just in time, sliding into a pew just as the bell stops ringing. Father Peter is his usual dear, plodding self, and the hymns are familiar and comforting to sing, and several elders -- friends of her late parents’ -- greet her afterwards with affection, caring words, and firm, heartfelt embraces.

Back at home, she spends some time organizing and washing her clothes, takes Freddy for a very long walk, makes herself a nice tea, and takes a long soak in the bath.

As she relaxes in the hot water, she allows herself to remember that one night three years ago when another Wren had run to her in the barracks and given her the message that Chief Officer Lister wanted Ann to report to her quarters right away.

Disregarding the raucous hoots that arose from the other girls, Ann had raced, heart in her throat, to Lister’s office and reported, saluting smartly. Lister, looking tired and stressed, had glanced at her and said, “You’re very talented with these codes, I understand, Walker.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

Lister indicated an intimidating stack of teletype forms. “I’m under strict orders to get these encrypted by tomorrow morning and it’s highly classified stuff. Can I trust you, Walker?”

Ann had looked squarely at Lister, whose necktie, she noticed, was not secured in its usual regulation, tight knot, but loose. Lister’s tunic collar was open, revealing a hint of her collarbone. “Absolutely, Ma’am.”

Lister stared at her for a moment. “Good. Good.” She turned and tossed a pile of teletypes onto the desk. “Here we are. I aim to get these done by midnight. Do you think we can do it, just you and I? Because there is absolutely no one on this base, believe it or not, who is trustworthy and skilled enough to help. Just you. So I hope you live up to your reputation.”

Ann had gulped but said forthrightly, “I’ll do my level best, Ma’am.”

Lister said briskly, “All right, then, let’s get cracking. Have you had your supper?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Very good. We’ll have some tea sent up later.”

Ann sat where Lister indicated, across the desk from the officer, and they set to work together, one translating a document into code and the other checking her work for accuracy.

Ann found the work quite easy but was distracted by the presence of Lister so close by. She became aware of a very subtle scent — was it spruce? And lavender? As they continued to work, and passed papers back and forth, their hands brushed a few times, each time sending a jolt of energy through Ann’s skin. They started to enter a cooperative rhythm, and the work went smoothly.

At 2200 hours, Lister stretched and said, “We’re doing quite well. Hungry? I am.” She picked up the phone and said, “Send up tea and biscuits and whatever else you’ve got, for two, straightaway.”

Shortly thereafter, a knock came on the door and Ann jumped up to take the tray of tea and biscuits from a Wren she knew from the barracks. The other woman wiggled one eyebrow suggestively; Ann ignored her. The young woman closed the door and Ann carried the tea things to Lister’s desk.

As she poured the tea, she became aware of an electric tension in the air. Thinking she must be imagining it, she noticed that her hand was shaking as she passed Lister’s cup to her. Lister thanked her and then said, “Would you pass me the biscuits?” and pointed at the small plateful of digestives on the tray. Ann found she was having trouble breathing as she picked up the plate and passed it to Lister. Their fingertips touched as Lister took her biscuit. Their eyes met and the room seemed full of a profound, vibrating silence.

Without speaking, they finished their tea, and then their task, still in that extraordinary vibrating silence. Ann wondered if Lister felt it as well.

Midnight came just as they put the finishing touches on their project. “Well done, Walker!” Lister exclaimed. Ann glowed with the praise. “Dismissed, and thank you very much,” Lister said. Ann stood, saluted, and left.

***

Now, she wonders if Lister remembers that night and is quite certain that she doesn’t. But all through her day, the knowledge that Chief Officer Lister -- Anne Lister -- is coming to see her tomorrow -- that they will be working together again -- runs like a persistent tune in the background of her consciousness.

After so many months and years of funeral hymns and dirges, at last -- a melody of hope, a rhythm of delight.


	4. Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Lister comes to work, and brings a contract. Ann at least gets a hug.

Anne Lister is at the door promptly at ten, wearing a beautifully-tailored tweed jacket and a dark green skirt. James shows her in and she greets Ann with a delighted smile and that handshake, but is all business as soon as preliminaries are completed and coffee has been delivered and consumed.

Anne Lister pulls a clipboard from her briefcase and takes copious notes in pencil as Ann shows her from room to room in the house, indicating the old canvases in their heavy frames – many of which Ann has not even taken a good look at -- the odd little sculptures, the strange wooden masks and shields, the sporting prints -- so very many of them, so many hundreds of men in red coats on horseback jumping over hedges.

Ann finds it almost impossible to focus on the art itself. Today, she is riveted by the sharp line of Lister’s jaw, the angle of her cheekbones, her graceful neck, the tenor of her low voice, and – yes -- the very light scent of spruce and lavender that emanates from her. Ann has to keep jerking herself back to the present moment and forcing herself to focus on the artworks.

After they have visited every room, they go back to the drawing room and stand before the fire, warming themselves.

“You see, Miss Lister --“

“Anne.”

“You see, Anne, I know nothing about art. I sketch a little bit myself but I've never had a class or anything about real art. So I have no idea if this is what it looks like to me -- the worst pile of rubbish -- or if it’s treasure in disguise, maybe enough to...” She hesitates, afraid to reveal so much.

“To what?” asks Anne Lister gently, seeming to sense her distress. As Ann continues to hesitate, Anne Lister puts her hand on her shoulder, steadying her. “It’s all right, you can tell me.” Ann is braced by the hand, whose warmth penetrates through all the layers of clothes she’s wearing, giving her courage. She stands up straight and takes a deep breath.

“Well, to save the house. I have a small inheritance that provides enough for me to live on, but not nearly enough for the repairs and – oh, God -- the taxes. The land that used to sustain the family has all been sold off long ago. This house has been in the Walker family for so many generations — my brother Charlie should have inherited, but he was killed training to fly Spitfires.” At this, Anne Lister moans sympathetically, and her grip on Ann’s shoulder tightens.

Ann swallows the lump in her throat, takes a breath, and continues: “I’d be happy to work, but I’m not qualified to do anything much; the skills I acquired in the Wrens aren’t really very useful on the peacetime job market, not around here at any rate. I can’t bear the thought that I might be the last Walker to live at Lydgate. But it looks as if that’s what might be happening.”

Anne Lister steps back and looks at her thoughtfully. “That is useful information, Miss Walker --“

“Ann.”

“Ann. I hesitate to pry, but is there any chance at all that you might marry and restore some of your family’s fortune that way?”

Ann laughs at that, throwing her head back. She stops abruptly and shakes her head. “No, I’m not -- well, I’m not really inclined that way, if you catch my drift. I’m rather afraid it’s up to me.”

Anne Lister smiles kindly. “I quite understand, Ann. I’m not really inclined that way, either.”

Lister pauses to jot some notes on her clipboard. Ann’s heart is beating so hard at this revelation -- she hopes so much that it means what she thinks it means, that the rumours that circulated on the base were true -- that she’s surprised Anne Lister can’t hear her heart pounding.

Lister looks up from her notes with an encouraging expression. “Look, I’ll go to my office this afternoon and type up a quote for my services. Obviously, I can’t promise that my work will solve your house problem, but I can promise that I can help you get the absolutely best price for these...objects....And I promise you that I’ll be in your corner, advocating only for your interests. All right? I’ll bring back a contract around four, and you can look it over at your leisure, or sign it tonight if you like. How does that sound?”

Ann asks, “It sounds marvelous.”

Freddy follows Anne Lister to the door and whines when she is gone.

“I know just how you feel, old boy,” Ann whispers.

*****

Ann spends the afternoon trying to force herself to catalogue the blasted hunting prints. She finds she is absolutely unable to concentrate. Being around Anne Lister – her presence, as well as the indelible memories she evokes – has filled her awareness to the exclusion of everything else.

Finally, she surrenders, calling Freddy and taking him into the village, where he has numerous friends, both human and animal, to greet and sniff.

She returns home a bit refreshed and changes into a nice enough dress, which she hopes looks sufficiently businesslike for the contract business that will be conducted shortly. She digs up an old front door key from a crowded kitchen drawer. And she shuts Freddy in the dining room – she realizes that she doesn’t want any third party, even her beloved dog, in the room with her and Anne Lister.

***

Lister’s authoritative knock comes promptly at four. Ann forces herself to breathe deeply and evenly and to answer the door with some degree of composure. Lister takes her in with a broad smile but few words, and they go into the drawing room.

Ann says, “Oh, before I forget – you’ll be working here for weeks, and I want you to have full access, any time you like.” She hands the heavy front-door key on its leather tag to Lister, who accepts it solemnly.

“I appreciate your trust, Ann,” she says.

“Who would I trust more?” replies Ann, and blushes.

They stand next to the fire as Lister fingers the key, and Ann feels a silence coming not so much between them as around them, like an enveloping cloud crackling with potential. She feels unable to move.

The electric silence continues until Ann feels she will fall right over onto the old green carpet if it goes on one second more. She clears her throat and glances toward the drinks cabinet. “Would you like a sherry?”

“That would be splendid,” says Anne Lister, who sounds uncharacteristically shy. As Ann fetches the sherry, Lister pulls a large envelope from her briefcase and says, “Here’s the contract – would you like to review it now? Or shall I leave it here for you to look over? And show to your solicitor, if you like?”

Ann gives her a glass and they clink glasses. “Absent friends,” says Lister, and they sip the dry sherry, avoiding each other’s eyes.

Ann puts down her glass and pulls the contract out of the envelope. “Oh, I’m sure this is all in order -- I don’t want to have to read it. Can’t you sum it up for me?”

Lister says, “It is quite straightforward, really, our standard contract. It says that I am working for you to determine my best estimate of the market value of your artworks and advise you on selling them; that you are paying me seventy-five guineas as a month's retainer; and that neither of us will sue the other.

“And there’s some important fine print you should look at, as well, before you sign it. In Section Five. And an attachment.”

Ann says, “All right.” She skims over the legal language quickly. It is all gibberish to her. She wants to have the thing signed and settled. “I trust you; do you have a pen?”

Lister looks at her with a frown. “I don’t think you’ve had time to read it carefully enough. Why don’t you ask your solicitor to look it over?”

Ann smiles and says, “Aren’t you trustworthy?”

Lister says hesitantly, “Yes, but...”

“Please. Let’s get this finished right now.” Lister smiles a bit dubiously but she uncaps and hands Ann a steel fountain pen. They each sign two copies of the contract, and Ann hands back the pen with a sigh of relief.

“Super,” says Lister. “I say, thanks so much for the sherry. I must run – furniture delivery this evening. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, shall I? And then again in the evening for dinner? At seven?”

Ann asks, “Yes, lovely! Where are you taking me?”

Anne Lister is tucking her copy of the contract away. “Hmm? Oh, do you like Italian food?”

Ann confesses, “I don’t know, I’ve never had any.”

“Never had any -- well, I do hope you’ll like this. My friend George Bedini is a magician, an absolute magician. Let's dress up a bit.”

“I can’t wait,” exclaims Ann, giddy at the idea of an elegant evening out, let alone with Anne Lister. “Are you sure you can’t stay for another sherry?”

Lister shakes her head, with what looks like genuine regret. “Sorry. New sofa arriving in half an hour. But tomorrow -- now that the contract’s done, we can really get cracking on sorting the art from the chaff, and see if we can save your house.”

“Yes!” says Ann, filled with relief that she’s not going to have to struggle alone.

Lister extends her hand and they shake. Both smile disbelievingly.

As Ann walks her to the door, Lister shakes her head in wonder. “Whoever would have dreamed…?”

Ann replies, full of wonder, “I know!”

Ann walks out with Lister to her car, a low-slung green MG. They are awkward again. Ann attempts to shake Lister’s hand but Lister gently pushes her hand aside and reaches down to embrace Ann in a warm hug. She says into Ann’s ear, “I’m just thrilled about all this, aren’t you?”

Ann murmurs, “Yes, really thrilled.” She runs her hands over the rough nubbles of the tweed, takes a deep whiff of the spruce and lavender, and clings to Lister for one more moment, then they release each other and Lister jumps into her car and is off in a spray of gravel and a throaty roar of her engine. As the sports car turns into the road, Ann sees Lister’s hand thrust up out of the driver's window, waving goodnight.

As she releases Freddy from the dining room, Ann rumples his ears and says, “She’s coming back tomorrow, old boy. And the day after that. And the day after that.” As she proceeds to make a little supper for herself, Ann finds herself wondering what Italian food actually tastes like.


	5. Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gorgeous nude, and the first taste of something new.

**Chapter Five: Tuesday**

It is late on Tuesday afternoon. They have been working since nine. Lister, dressed casually today in blazer and trousers, arrived bearing a basket filled with a dozen eggs, an assortment of vegetables and a large ham, and took the basket down to the kitchen, where Polly treated her like Father Christmas.

Lister is now working her way through a stack of framed oil paintings, writing copious notes about each one, making sketches, measuring dimensions, examining the backs of frames with a magnifying glass, occasionally looking up a detail in one of the reference books she has brought with her.

Ann is working nearby, continuing to organize the prints and starting to think about what to do with the statuettes. She notices that she is a little resentful of Lister’s ability to concentrate her attentions exclusively on the work, when it would be so nice if she would notice Ann from time to time. And then she feels silly for harbouring such a thought. And then she notices that her back hurts.

Lister whistles and says, "I say, Ann, have you seen this picture?"

Ann goes to her and looks at the small, vibrantly-coloured oil painting. It is a nude of a red-haired woman, seated in a bright summer garden, shadow-dappled. Ann has not paid attention to it before, but now she looks closely and admires the pale, long face of the subject and her masses of red hair, as well as the lanky body with its rosy nipples and auburn pubic hair. The subject of the painting turns toward the viewer, offering herself, her back slightly arched, her eyes half closed.

"It's lovely. She's lovely," Ann says, flushing. She admires the artistry as well as the subject, and feels intensely conscious of Anne Lister, standing right next to her, transmitting her heat through their arms, which brush against each other as they lean over the picture.

"I think it might be an Evelyn de Morgan,"* says Lister, sounding excited. She looks at Ann to gauge her reaction.

Ann shrugs. "Sorry, never heard of her."

"One of the few female pre-Raphaelites. This really might be worth something."

Ann's pulse quickens. "Oh, that would be wonderful."

Lister says, "She's quite gorgeous, isn't she? And look at this brushwork." Lister's long fingers caress the canvas and lazily trace the contours of the woman in the painting – the hips, the breasts. Ann feels herself flush more deeply, a confusing mélange of desires arising in her. She is aroused by the erotic subject of the painting and also very much by watching Lister's fingertips wander over the canvas. She longs for Lister to touch her like that -- lightly, caressingly…

"Ann?" Lister is saying her name and she suddenly realizes she has been lost in a daydream and has no idea what Lister is talking about. She makes an effort to look alert.

"Would it be all right with you if I took this to the auction I'm going to on Thursday? Not to sell it, just to consult with a dealer friend of mine who's an expert on the pre-Raphaelites, to see if he agrees with my assessment?"

"Of course I wouldn't mind," says Ann, remembering to smile. "How much do you think it's worth?"

Lister grins. "I'm not going to say, because I don't want you to be disappointed, but it might be quite valuable." Checking her wristwatch, she says, “Well, I’ll be off now, and back to pick you up at seven, all right?” Before Ann has time to respond, Lister has stridden off. “I’ll let myself out,” she calls and Ann replies, “Bye for now.”

*****

When Freddy starts barking at seven to signal Anne Lister’s arrival, Ann is ready, and opens the door even before the knock comes.

“Good evening, Miss Lister,” she says, as Lister thumps Freddy’s ribs. Anne Lister is wearing a long black wool overcoat, and under it, a plain, severely cut navy suit and under it, a glistening white blouse. She has done something to her hair to make it gleam. And she is holding a small bouquet of carnations, which she offers to Ann with the hint of a courtly bow. Ann feels a thickening in her throat and can barely speak, except to say “thank you so much.” As Ann goes off to find a vase, Anne Lister goes to the drawing room and sits near the fire. When Ann returns and reaches up to put the vase on the mantelpiece, Anne Lister sighs deeply.

“What?” asks Ann.

“Nothing."

"You sighed. What did you sigh for?"

"Well, it’s just -- it’s just that you look so lovely.”

Ann can feel a blush rise from her heart to her ears. "You just think so because you haven’t seen me in anything but rags lately,” she manages to say. She is wearing her very best dress, a dark rose brocaded thing with a deep scoop neckline and three-quarter sleeves. She has had it since before the war, and altered it just yesterday to fit better -- she has lost half a stone at least since she acquired it, and it needed to be taken in quite a bit. She feels wonderful in it, and all the more so now that Anne Lister, sitting on the loveseat next to the fire, stretched out as if she owns the place and everything in it, is staring at her with frank appreciation.

They don coats, tell Freddy to guard the house, and go outside, where a half moon is rising over the dark landscape. Lister hands her into the forest-green MG, climbs into the driver’s seat, and starts the engine.

Lister shouts over the engine's roar as she drives, “The Bedinis are old friends of mine. Their restaurant in Manchester was always one of my favourites. They didn’t do very well during the war, obviously, for stupid reasons -- they’ve been in England since the ‘20s. They were being harassed by goons and had to close up shop. I encouraged them to consider Halifax. They opened this restaurant a year ago and they’re doing very well. Rationing’s not been too much of an issue for them, between you and me — they have some very good connections out in farm country.”

They drive in silence for twenty minutes, the hedges lining the dark road whipping past as Lister drives just a little too fast for Ann’s comfort, yet so competently that she finds the speed exhilarating rather than frightening. Then they are in a road lined with small shops, and Lister pulls off the road into a car park beside a small building with a discreet, lamp-lit sign that says simply “Bedini’s.”

They get out of the car and Ann looks around. “I thought you said they were doing well.”

“They are,” replies Lister, quizzically arching one eyebrow.

“But there aren’t any other cars here.”

“No,” says Lister, “The restaurant is closed on Tuesdays.”

“But if it’s closed --“

“But it's not closed...for us,” replies Lister, opening the front door of the restaurant and ushering Ann into a large dining room. There are no diners, but the room contains warm light and delicious smells and a large cheerful man who greets Lister with loud enthusiasm, bows delightedly to Ann, and takes their coats.

“So, we have the private dining room, George?”

“Of course, Miss Lister, it’s all ready for you,” he says, and leads them through the large dining room to a separate, smaller room where a table covered with a gleaming white cloth holds heavy silverware and crystal wine glasses. There are flowers in the room, and candlelight. A wood fire in the corner of the room snaps and crackles.

George holds a chair out for Ann, while Anne Lister seats herself across the table. She is smiling a little bit smugly and Ann smiles back, delighted and amazed. George produces a bottle of white wine, presents it for Lister's approval, and pours a glass for both of them.

Lister addresses George in Italian, and a rapid-fire dialogue ensues. Lister interrupts herself.

"Ann? How do you feel about veal?"

"Oh, not for me, please. I don't like how it's -- what they do to the poor --"

Lister nods. "Good, good." She continues her dialogue with George, who finally smiles, bows, and exits. Lister raises her glass and looks Ann in the eyes. Ann raises her glass as well.

Lister says, "To you."

Ann responds, "And to you."

They clink glasses and sip the wine. A silence falls, but it is a comfortable silence. 

Pasta follows, and chicken cacciatore, and all kinds of things that are new to Ann and that reveal to her a whole universe of tastes that she has never even imagined. Lister chats a bit about her life in Italy before the war, and her hopes to return. And then, when they have finished their main course, they agree to wait to order dessert. Full and fairly tipsy, Ann remembers the barracks gossip and feels brave enough to venture a personal question.

"Did you -- in the war -- have someone -- you were particularly close to? "

"A romantic partner, you mean?"

Ann nods, shyly.

"I know I had quite the reputation, didn't I. The war was a terrible time, but it was also a time when people like me could find each other more easily, and yes," she grins a bit slyly, "I saw a few women."

"Anyone -- anyone special?"

"Yes." Lister's eyes cloud. "There was one. We became quite serious about each other. Dashed silly thing to do in wartime. She had a weekend leave and went into Leeds to see her parents. There was a raid. A direct hit on their road. And -- well, that was that. And since her, no, no one serious at all."

"What was her name?"

"Mariana," says Lister quietly.

Ann lifts her glass. "To Mariana."

Lister has tears in her eyes, and one trails down her left cheek. She hastily wipes it away as she joins Ann in the toast. "To Mariana."

They are quiet for a moment, remembering all their losses. Ann thinks of her brother, Charlie -- bright-haired, careless, annoying Charlie. And her parents, who had died within a year of each other from natural causes, but whose deaths she attributes to their broken hearts.

Ann raises her glass again. “To Charlie.”

Lister raises hers. “To Charlie.” And they drink.

Another silence falls. Lister breaks Ann’s reverie. "And you?"

Ann startles. “What?”

“Romances?”

Ann smiles shyly. “No, I’ve never actually had one."

Lister smiles. "I'm astonished."

"There were boys who were interested in me, but I was never interested in them, so I drove them away. My poor mother used to get so frustrated with me."

"No girls, then?"

Ann takes another large sip of the wine, considers what she is about to say, and rushes on past her fears. "Well, just a few kisses with two girls at boarding school. But then…there was someone in the service who I admired very much. Who actually I had a tremendous, I suppose you'd call it a crush, on, though it seemed more than a crush to me. But I don't think she even knew I existed."

Lister replies quietly, "I find that very hard to believe. Was there a rank difference?"

This is getting into dangerous territory, but Ann nods.

Lister says, slowly, "If she was an officer, perhaps she indeed knew you existed, but she couldn't do anything about it. Perhaps she suffered some pangs herself. Because of you. Perhaps she was quite tempted to cross a line, and didn’t. And perhaps she was unreasonably harsh as a result.”

Ann is stunned into silence. If she can believe what Lister is saying, she has never considered this possibility. That perhaps there had been a mutual attraction.

Lister lightens the mood by calling for panna cotta, and their conversation turns to more frivolous topics. They talk about some of the Wrens they knew, and share old gossip, and before long they are laughing until their sides hurt. Lister tells an anecdote about a senior officer getting into a scrape at the officers' club and Ann is curious.

"What did go on in your officers' club?"

"What did the rumours say?"

"Oh, ridiculous things. You know, orgies and so on."

Lister throws her head back and laughs. "If there were any orgies, I was never invited. Mainly, we complained about all the usual things, the food and the war and the cold, and of course we complained about you ratings."

Ann pretends outrage. "What? You officers were the cause of ninety percent of the problems we had!"

Lister chuckles. "You're probably right. But we did have a lot of fun, when we had the energy. We had spontaneous dances quite often, when we had a supply of decent alcohol and the phonograph worked. There was a lovely Second Officer -- engaged to be married, unfortunately -- who was a stupendous dancer, and she taught all the rest of us clod-hoppers. I was the worst student in the group, so she gave me private lessons, and I taught her some unarmed self-defence manoeuvres in return.

"I'd never danced at all before that, but by the time the war was over, I could cut a rug with the best of them. I love it. There's a freedom that comes when you're dancing at the limits of your ability, with a compatible partner -- you take risks with gravity and sometimes feel as if you could fly." She pauses, dreamily. "Do you dance at all?"

Ann says, "Charlie had parties sometimes where there was dancing, and one or two of his friends taught me a bit. I love it, too."

Lister smiles wistfully. "Perhaps we'll have a chance to try sometime. Wouldn't it be lovely if there were clubs where women could dance together? Bit difficult, now that it's peacetime and the men are back."

******

Very late indeed, they go into the kitchen to praise and thank the weary, smiling staff. George brings their coats. They step out into a moonlit, breezy night. Lister drives a bit more slowly, no doubt taking into account her slight tipsiness, though the country roads are deserted at this hour. Ann gazes surreptitiously at Anne Lister's profile as it is revealed intermittently by the moonlight. She wonders how she will be able to contain her feelings as she works with this woman over the days to come.

Lister pulls up in front of Lydgate. They get out onto the gravel drive. Ann opens the front door of the house and turns to Lister. "Thank you for the loveliest evening I've had in years, Anne."

Lister smiles with delight. "The pleasure was all mine. Good to see you eating a proper meal."

"Do come in for a nightcap."

Lister looks torn. She steps forward and takes Ann's hand. "There's nothing I'd like more, honestly, Ann. But I can’t." She leans forward and kisses Ann gently on the cheek. Her lips linger there for the space of a long sigh. Ann longs to have the lips meet her own.

"But why can't you?” Ann breathes.

Lister whispers into Ann's ear, "All that stuff in the fine print. Sorry. I'd have loved to.”

Then she is off, hopping into the MG. Just before she starts the engine, she shouts, "What will you say the next time someone asks you if you like Italian food?"

Laughing, Ann calls back, "Yes! I'll say yes, I love it! I adore it!"

With a roar of the engine and a spray of gravel, Lister is gone.

Ann lets Freddy out and he runs around for a few minutes as Ann ponders.

Why couldn’t Lister come in? Has Ann been imagining the magnetic attraction between them? She remembers the warmth of their connection in the restaurant and knows she hasn’t invented it.

What does Lister mean by “the fine print”?

Is someone waiting for Anne Lister at home? She doesn’t think so. Lister said there had been no one “serious” since Mariana.

Was it something that she, Ann, had said or done wrong? Should she not have confessed to her crush?

Then she remembers the gentle kiss on her cheek and thinks, no, she hasn’t done anything too wrong, or that kiss wouldn’t have been so sweet and lingering.

She battles her self-doubt for a moment and then tosses it aside. What a wonderful evening it has been! She twirls around in the moonlight, feeling she could float away on her memories of Anne Lister's presence. Then she calls the dog and they go inside to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a painting by Evelyn de Morgan that happens to look a bit like someone we know: https://www.flickr.com/photos/eoskins/7018843657


	6. Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sing! Sing! Sing!

When Ann rises on Wednesday, two things impinge immediately on her awareness.

She is intensely eager to understand Lister's comment about the fine print.

And she has quite the hangover.

Desperate for coffee, she goes down to the kitchen and begs Polly to make a pot right away. Soon, James brings it to the drawing room and Ann drinks a big cupful.

She digs up the contract and peruses the section Lister had mentioned. Section Five is about ethical constraints -- art appraisers are not to deal in their clients' artworks because that creates a conflict of interest. And so on and so on. There is vocabulary that Ann doesn't understand. She feels quite frustrated. She shoves the contract back in the desk drawer and reluctantly takes up the damned hunting prints again.

When Lister comes, she wears a big smile but looks a bit hungover as well, and they quietly drink a lot of coffee and work for a few hours. Ann notices that she is feeling resentful and a bit hurt by Lister's rejection of her offer of a nightcap, and tries to shake the feeling off by focusing on how much fun the dinner was, and how grateful she is for the work Lister is doing.

By two o'clock, Ann feels desperately in need of fresh air. Freddy wakes from his nap, lumbers to his feet, and yawns deeply. Ann gratefully puts the prints aside and rubs his head. "I'm sorry, old boy, time for a walk, isn't it," she says to him. She goes to get his lead, and he gallops about excitedly.

"Want to come, Anne?"

Lister looks up. "Oh, no, thanks, I'm making good progress here, better stick to it. I'll stop when you return and we can take stock of what we've accomplished, what do you think?"

Ann smiles -- convincingly, she hopes. "Super." She gathers her coat and the dog and goes out into the windy afternoon.

*****

"I must be awfully dim," she says to Freddy as he sniffs every shrub they pass. "Or else she's one of those people who gets pleasure from teasing other people. I can't quite believe that."

She remembers Chief Officer Lister's stringent discipline running their company and suspects she is capable of cruelty -- but then the fresher memory of their closeness at dinner last night, the warm hug, the kiss on her cheek, confuses her.

Why hadn't Lister come in for a nightcap when Ann invited her? "I suppose I could come right out and ask her," she mutters, but knows she won't be brave enough.

Ann takes Freddy on a much longer walk than usual and lets him off in a field to chase some geese. She hopes Lister will wonder where she is, and perhaps even worry. The wind is rising, whipping her scarf and umbrella around. 

*****

Dusk moves in. She calls Freddy and puts his lead on again. The rain starts to cascade in earnest and they return, running, to the house, where Lister greets them enthusiastically, finding a towel to rub Freddy's wet fur and tossing him a bite of ham.

She has stopped working for the day and has a good fire going, and swing music playing quietly on the wireless. "James brought us a lovely tea before he left," she proclaims, showing a tray laden with ham, cheese, apples, and fresh-baked rolls, as well as the big teapot under a cozy. "Come and eat up."

As Ann reaches for a plate, her hand brushes Lister’s. "You're freezing!" Lister exclaims, and then, looking closely at Ann's face, "What's wrong? Are you all right?"

"Just a bit cold," says Ann.

"No wonder! You got quite wet out there. Listen to that wind!"

Lister looks at Ann. "Come and sit by the fire and let me bring you a cuppa and make you a sandwich," says Lister, and within a few minutes, Ann's resentment has crumbled.

Just as Ann is about to take her first good bite of the sandwich, there is a powerful gust of wind, and the lights and the music go off. They reach toward each other instinctively. Lister takes hold of Ann's elbow. It is dark in the room except for the firelight. Ann shivers. 

"Does this happen often?" Lister asks.

"No, just sometimes when there's a big storm like this. They usually fix it quickly," Ann says. "It reminds me of the blackouts -- I hate it when this happens. I keep expecting to hear bombs dropping."

Lister squeezes her arm. "No bombs. The war is long over. I'll stay till the lights come back on, if you like."

Ann feels tears prickling the corners of her eyes. "Of course I'd like that. I'll go and find some candles." She starts to stand; Lister restrains her.

“Come here,” says Lister, taking Ann’s plate away, putting her arm around Ann’s shoulders, and pulling her close. They sit side by side, listening to the furious wind. Ann leans into the comforting body beside her and forgets to be annoyed. Forgets, in fact, everything but the scent and the warmth of Anne Lister, which fill her up. After a few minutes, Lister pats her, detaches herself, returns the plate to Ann, and smiles.

"Finish your tea. We'll look for candles in a bit. No rush."

Ann keeps eating the delicious sandwich and they sit side by side, shoulders touching, watching the fire and listening to the storm rage and then slowly begin to die down.

Ann asks Lister, "How did you decide to go into this art business?"

"My father was in the Navy, you know, and when he retired from active duty he and Mother and I went to live in Italy. I was fifteen.

"We traveled all over the Mediterranean. I fell in love with the art and taught myself as much as I could about it, and then I came to Cambridge to study art history.

"I joined the Wrens the minute they revived the service in '39. When we were demobbed in ’45, I apprenticed myself to an art appraiser and learned the profession.

"It appeals to me because I can be a sort of detective and find the hidden value in things, and it makes people so happy when it turns out their dusty old pictures are worth something. Also, there's a fair bit of crawling around in attics and long-neglected cellars, and that's quite fun.

“Archie is a very good supervisor but a terrific stickler for the rules. I've been working for myself for the past year. But I'm still on probation and have to pass all kinds of tests and really toe the line before I'll be certified. With any luck, I should be finished with all that in February. Fingers crossed.

"The business is doing quite well and I've gone out on a limb, financially, and just bought a nice little house in Halifax -- my first. I’ve been fixing it up in my spare time. I'm still moving in.” She stops, looks pensive and sad in the firelight.

Slowly, she says, “The war took so much away from us, unleashed so much ugliness and savagery. You saw the newsreels about the liberation of those dreadful camps." She pauses and looks at Ann. "I want to create a home -- a life -- that’s a sanctuary from all that horror. A sanctuary for beauty, if that doesn’t sound too pretentious. I'm looking forward to filling my house with beautiful art, beautiful music. And beautiful friends.” She pauses again, looking away from Ann. “You’d fit right in.”

Ann can barely speak. "I don't know about that, but I'd love to see it."

Suddenly, the lights flicker and then come on. The wireless comes back on and strains of dance music – “Sing, Sing, Sing” -- fill the room. Lister leaps to her feet and smiles widely at Ann.

Despite herself, Ann smiles back. Lister rushes to the wireless, turns it up as loud as it will go, returns to Ann. She whisks Ann's plate away and pulls her to her feet. Ann pulls back, laughing, but quickly gives in.

Freddy whines as Lister leads Ann into a vigorous lindy-hop. Ann feels her initial stiffness fall away from her as she gives herself to the music.

Ann feels she could fly as Lister's strong hands catch and release her over and over, turning her, spinning her, embracing her and flinging her away. The song comes to an end and, perspiring and out of breath, they stand panting and laughing.

The next song is a foxtrot. Ignoring Ann's pleas for a rest, Lister puts her right arm around Ann's waist, takes her hand, and steers her skillfully around the floor. Their bodies move as one under Lister's confident guidance.

Ann feels graceful and light-footed, and very warm indeed where their hands touch and their hips graze each other. As the song continues, Lister's cheek draws closer and closer to Ann's, until they are touching, and Ann is overwhelmed with feelings she can’t name as the dance ceases being a foxtrot and becomes a gently swaying embrace.

Lister has both arms around her now, pressing softly into Ann's body, holding her close. The song comes to an end, and a sentimental tune takes its place. They have stopped moving. Ann can scarcely breathe. Her consciousness is filled with Lister's presence.

Ann pulls her head back to look at Lister. Lister's eyes are closed and her face looks strained.

Ann cannot hold herself back. She reaches up with both hands to plunge them into Lister's hair. Lister sighs and looks as if she is in pain. Ann pulls Anne Lister’s head down and kisses her -- tentatively, timidly. Lister moans and returns the kiss, lightly touching Ann's lips with hers, then withdrawing her mouth and kissing Ann's cheek, her ear, her neck.

Not looking at her, Lister pulls away, leaving Ann feeling bereft. "Well, this will never do," Lister says, out of breath.

"Why not?" Ann wails. "Why won't it do?"

Lister sighs. "Have you read the fine print in the contract?"

Ann is beside herself. "What does that have to do with this?"

Anne Lister avoids looking at her, but gathers her things and prepares to leave. "I didn't want to be presumptuous. Perhaps you should talk to your solicitor, as I suggested."

Ann is in tears. "I don't understand! You’re confusing me and…”

“And what?” Lister asks, quietly.

“And I don’t know if you like me or not.”

Lister looks down, pauses, and says, "I'm truly sorry. I honestly don’t mean to be annoying. I need to think something through. I promise things will be a bit clearer very soon."

Ann turns away and says coldly, "I hope so. Can you let yourself out, please?” She doesn't turn around when Lister says "Good night, then, Ann," and goes out the front door, closing it gently behind her.

*****

The perspiration that Ann worked up while they danced is cooling now. She is shivering. Her eyes fill with tears of frustration and she calls the dog over. Freddy sits next to her on the hearthrug as she pokes the fire morosely. He pants happily in her ear. "At least I know _you_ like me," she says.

As she trails up the stairs to bed, she feels like an utter idiot. An utter idiot who is chilled, through and through. Once she gets into bed, she stays awake for a very long time.


	7. Thursday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann asks, "What is your heart's desire?"  
***  
Lister's fierce side makes a startling appearance.

On Thursday, Lister does not appear all morning. Ann tries to work but is beside herself wondering what is going on, where Lister is. She looks for the nude painting and cannot find it. "What on earth is going on? Is she angry at me?" she asks Freddy, who moans and rolls on his back for a tummy scratch. "I suppose I was pretty cold to her yesterday. Oh, dammit."

Finally, unable to concentrate at all on the prints, she paces up and down in the hall and at last picks up the phone and places a call to Halifax Art Appraisers. A young woman answers. Ann identifies herself and asks if Miss Lister is in.

"Oh no, Miss Walker, she's at the art auction in Bradford -- she has an appointment with a dealer there. Let me look at her calendar. Yes, she should be back to work with you by early afternoon. Is there a message, in case she phones in?"

Embarrassed that she had forgotten about the auction, Ann says no, and, thanking the secretary, ends the call.

In a penitential mood, she makes swift work of the prints and is able to feel good when she finishes them at last. She puts them in a neat pile for Lister to review when she comes.

The sun is out by one, and she takes Freddy for a brisk walk. When she returns, she sees the MG in the drive and her heart lifts.

As Ann takes off her coat in the entryway, Lister hears her and rushes out to greet her. Freddy eagerly greets Lister, who gives him the customary friendly thump, causing him to wiggle in ecstasy.

"I have the most thrilling news, Ann!" she crows, and grasps Ann's hand, pulling her into the drawing-room. She points triumphantly at the small painting of the nude redhead. Lister has propped it up in a position of honour on the table. "My expert chap had a good look at it and he is confident it is indeed an Evelyn de Morgan! He's going to contact a friend of his at the Victoria and Albert to see if he'll have a look at it for us."

"That's good news, then?" says Ann.

Lister takes both her hands and spins her around. "Good? It's the best possible news! It's excellent!"

Ann giggles happily, as much for the sight of Anne Lister's joy as for her own. They stop spinning, and Ann asks tentatively, "Any idea how much…"

Lister says, "It would easily fetch somewhere between…four and five thousand, he thinks. Possibly. Perhaps."

Ann is thrilled. She cannot turn off her grin. That would be enough to pay the taxes for several years -- and enough to fix the roof as well.

Lister says, "We must celebrate. Oh! And something else!" She rushes across the room and brings back a battered cardboard portfolio. Ann recognizes it and her heart sinks.

Lister waves it around. "Look what I found hidden in the library. You sketch 'a little,' you said? A little?"

Ann tries to snatch it away, but Lister holds it aloft, laughing at her. "No," wails Ann, "Those silly sketches -- give them to me."

Lister tucks the portfolio firmly beneath her arm and, while dodging Ann's attempts to dislodge it, says firmly, "Listen to me, Ann! They're good. They're really good. I want to look at them with you. Please. Please. I'm serious." She throws an arm around Ann's shoulders and Ann ceases her resistance.

"Oh, all right," she says, resignedly.

Lister puts the portfolio on a table, unties its ribbon, and opens it. Inside are about a dozen sketches, all of women in Wrens uniforms. Casual, quick sketches in pencil, of Wrens doing ordinary things whilst on duty.* The first one shows a Wren snoozing over a book, radio headphones around her neck. The others show Wrens fixing machinery, adjusting a gauge on deck, transcribing a telegraph. Ann says, "These were just little things I did to fill the time."

Lister stares at her in disbelief. "Did you say you've never taken an art class?" Ann nods. "These sketches are wonderful, Ann -- strong, confident, vivid. Each of these women has personality and -- presence. You're very talented." Lister goes on to ask her detailed questions about each of the subjects and how the sketch was done. And then Lister tells Ann specifically why each one is good.

Ann answers all of Lister's questions, and listens when Lister tells her what makes each sketch work, but cannot take in the praise. Lister continues, excited, persuasive. "Imagine what you could do if you learned a few tricks of the trade -- have you ever used watercolours? Or learned perspective?" Ann shakes her head.

Lister turns and grasps Ann's upper arms, staring into her eyes. "Do you realise I'm not flattering you or trying to score points? That you really are very talented?" She grins and continues. "That I am, in fact, an almost fully-qualified professional art appraiser and know what I'm talking about?" Ann looks away but is saving up the praise to think about later.

"Your talent deserves to be nurtured and developed," Lister concludes, and then, seeing that Ann is saturated, quietly says, "All right. We'll talk about this another time, I hope."

Ann says, "That would be lovely."

"Meanwhile," says Lister, "We really must celebrate about the painting. How's that pub down the way?"

Ann says, "The Tannery? It's all right. I like it. Would you like to go?"

Lister grins. "Do they do dinner?" Ann nods. "Yes, come on, let's go. It's my treat -- on the condition that you bring your sketchpad and pencils."

Ann sighs. "Why?"

Lister replies, "Because I want you to sketch me. Come on, honestly, wouldn't you love to sketch a portrait of me? And the main thing is -- it gives us a perfectly legitimate reason to stare at each other in a public place." She wags her eyebrows. Ann is defenseless. "Come on, get your gear."

Ann stands still. "I'll come. And I'll bring my sketchbook. But it's my treat, my turn."

"All right," says Lister, serenely. "So -- shall we walk, or drive? I confess that I'm a bit worried about all the petrol I'm using -- I don't want to use up my ration too soon this week."

Ann reassures her. "Oh, I can get you some petrol. James has a stockpile. Let's take your car. I love riding in it."

Soon they are in the MG, driving through the dusk the short distance to the pub.

***

The cozy, low-ceilinged pub is not crowded at this early hour, and Lister finds them a secluded table. "Cider?" she asks, and Ann says, "A pint of bitter, please," causing Lister to raise her eyebrows in mock admiration.

When Lister returns, Ann has taken out her sketching things and is sharpening a pencil with a small penknife.

Lister raises her glass in a toast and Ann clinks her glass. Lister says quietly, with a broad grin, "Here's to redheaded nude ladies." Ann, delighted, echoes the toast. They drink, and Ann sets up her sketchpad and considers Lister.

"Look towards the bar, would you? Raise your chin a bit? You can move if you like, but try to come back to that position."

Ann is enjoying the feeling of being in control of Lister's movements, and takes her time blocking out the sketch. Once she gets going, she knows, the drawing will go quickly enough.

Lister holds the pose for a moment but then speaks out of the corner of her mouth as Ann sketches away. "Can you manage to sketch and talk at the same time?"

"I think so."

"Well, I was curious about what made you join the Wrens."

"Oh, yes," says Ann, as she draws the outline of Lister's head and shoulders. "When Charlie died, I was seventeen. When I turned eighteen six months later, I really wanted to do something -- anything, really -- for the war effort. And to tell the truth, I wanted to get away from Mother and Dad as well -- they were so sad and gloomy. But I was torn -- I hated to leave them.

"I went to see Father Peter for advice -- he's known me since I was born. He listened to me for an hour at least -- at one point I was crying so hard I couldn't really speak -- and then he asked me the best question." Ann pauses, remembering.

"What was it?" Lister asks.

"He said, 'What is your heart's desire? Because if you can really find your heart's desire, you can be quite sure that's what God wants for you.'

"And I went home and thought about it a lot and my heart's desire really was to be in uniform, serving my country, and carrying on what Charlie would have done. And I'd always rather liked ships, so I chose the Wrens. Little did I know that as a Wren, I'd be stuck on dry land."

Lister ponders this for a moment. Ann is sketching rapidly and is quite pleased with the likeness taking form on her paper. Lister says, not moving, "What would you say your heart's desire is today?"

Ann keeps sketching, struggling to capture the exact curve of Lister's lips, and, she thinks, succeeding. Then she says thoughtfully, "My heart's desire is to be brave. Courageous. I'm afraid of almost everything. I wasn't like this when I was little. The war knocked the stuffing out of my courage, I suppose. I'd like to be as brave as I was when I was twelve. I think if I were properly courageous, I'd be bold enough to ask for what I really want."

She continues to sketch Lister for a few moments. The pub is noisier now, as more people have come in and crowded around the bar. On the paper, Lister's face is taking shape, in a process that always amazes Ann. Line and shadow, turning into the face she has come to love so much.

Ann asks Lister, "And what about you? What's your heart's desire?"

Lister replies, "Ask me later when I've had another drink. Speaking of which, are you ready for another?"

Ann nods and says, "And I'd like to order some food."

As they look over the menu and decide to order lamb stew and bread, a group of five young men enters, rowdy and evidently already two sheets to the wind. They stare rudely at the two women and elbow one another, laughing. Ann glances at them apprehensively but Lister ignores them. As she goes to the bar to order, one of the men stands in her way and she gently but firmly shoulders him aside. Ann can see the men pointing and laughing behind Lister's back and she bristles with protective ire.

After Lister returns with their pints, the barkeep follows close behind her and says quietly to Ann, "Excuse me, Miss Walker, but one of these young fellas -- that tall one -- would like to buy you a drink. I said I didn't think you'd accept."

"That's right, Mr. Washington, no thank you," says Ann coolly. Washington returns to the bar, shaking his head at the tall young man. A mocking cry goes up from the other men. Then they all go to the other end of the pub where the dartboard is.

Ann drinks half of her pint rather quickly, and, having watched Lister make inroads on her own pint, says, "Are you ready to tell me your heart's desire?"

Lister laughs and says, "No. Are you ready to show me your sketch?" Ann takes another look at her drawing, finishes cross-hatching some shadows under the cheekbones, and turns it so Lister can see it.

Lister picks up the sketchbook. She whistles softly through her teeth. Ann says, "I know it's not the best likeness…" and Lister waves her into silence.

Lister gazes at Ann. "I've never been so flattered in all my life." She returns her attention to the picture. "You've captured -- who I want to be. I'd like to be as good -- as powerful and… tranquil -- as the woman in this drawing. May I have it?"

Ann laughs and says, "No. I'm keeping it." She pulls the sketchbook away and Lister looks stricken, then smiles.

Lister says, "What would I need to do to persuade you to give it to me?"

Ann shrugs and says, "Oh -- I'll think of something."

Mr. Washington brings their food, and they eat hungrily. The tall young man, followed by hoots of encouragement from his pals, swaggers across the room towards their table, leering openly at Ann. Ann stiffens as he approaches. "Hello, darling," he slurs, leaning down towards her. "What are you doing with this tom? Why don't you join us at the bar? We'll show you a much better time." Ann's heart races, and she picks up her still-open penknife.

Lister is on her feet in a flash, inserting herself between Ann and the youth. Her face exudes contempt. "Off with you. Right now, or I'll toss you out myself," she spits at him.

Raising his hands in mock surrender, he backs off, winking suggestively at Ann as he goes. His friends whistle and laugh.

Lister sits again, resuming her meal without the slightest sign of being flustered. "Thank you!" says Ann, her heart starting to slow down.

"Can't let a worm like that trouble you," replies Lister serenely. "There are idiots everywhere. They generally back down when confronted." Her serenity communicates itself to Ann, who calms down and resumes her meal.

As Lister mops up the last bit of her stew with her bread, Ann asks casually, "You still want the sketch, then?" Lister nods, her mouth full. "Well, then, tell me your heart's desire."

Lister, swallowing, and becoming serious, plays with her napkin, twisting it into a knot. Her face betrays a struggle. Ann sits patiently. Under the table, Ann moves her knee so that it touches Lister's reassuringly. Lister returns the pressure. After a minute, Lister flicks a glance at her and speaks so low that Ann can barely hear her.

"When I was a child, I was able to be myself quite freely. I was impossibly happy. My parents put up with my cross-country solo bicycle jaunts, my explorations of crumbling old ruins, my insistence on wearing trousers whenever possible, even my crushes on my female schoolmates. I went after what I wanted, took wild risks, and if I got hurt, I took responsibility for it; and if I didn't get hurt, I roared on to my next adventure."

She sighs. "But as an adult, I feel as if I am constantly having to rein myself in, curb my impulses." She seems to turn inward and her voice become husky. "There are always rules and boundaries hedging me in. The Navy was bristling with them. I longed to have my own command, or even just to serve on a ship, but they kept me ashore -- not because of a lack of ability, but purely because of my sex. But I must admit, most of their other rules and boundaries made sense to me. Much as I might have liked to fraternise with -- let's say -- an Ordinary Wren -- I understood the wisdom of keeping officers separate from the ratings, for the sake of good discipline and morale.

"But in civilian life, the boundaries are everywhere -- they might not always be written, but they are very much there. I bump up against them every day. I'm constantly having to restrain myself, curtail my natural impulses." She shakes herself and seems to come back to an awareness of Ann's presence. "I'm a bit too much for this world. Too bold, too odd, just too much." She smiles sadly at Ann.

"So I suppose my heart's desire might be to find a place -- some part of my life -- where these rules and boundaries don't exist, or can be suspended for a time, so I might explore who I am and what I can do when I'm allowed to be fully myself."

She looks at Ann and laughs. "You're thinking, 'what a load of bollocks,' aren't you."

Ann grips her forearm. "Not at all, Anne. Not bollocks at all, and please don't ever say that again. I don't think you're too much, or too odd. I think you're …just right. Your heart's desire is sacred to me. Perhaps I could try to help you achieve it." Lister smiles sadly at her and drains her pint. Ann takes a breath. "Will you help me achieve mine?"

"Courage?" Lister says. "Yes, of course. You're already courageous; I think my main job would be to help you realize how brave you really are."

Ann scoffs but Lister continues. "It took courage to join the Wrens. To train for code decryption, one of the hardest jobs on offer. To come back and run that big house by yourself. To hire me! You're already quite brave, really."

Ann stares at Lister and slowly nods. "I'd never thought about some of those things as being brave."

Lister adds, "Which doesn't mean you can't become more courageous, because I certainly think you could." Lister laughs. "Listen to how serious we're getting tonight. How about a brandy?"

Ann looks around at the other pub patrons, notably the group of young men who are again crowded around the bar, though the tall one is not with them now, and feels repulsed. "Let's have a brandy at my house instead."

Lister agrees, and Ann signals to Mr. Washington that she is ready to pay the bill.

***

Outside, the car park is dark and they have to wait for their eyes to adjust before they can locate the MG. Lister offers her arm to Ann, and they walk cautiously toward the car, whose outline becomes clearer as they approach.

A dark shape can be seen moving near the car.

Lister exclaims, "Bloody hell! Someone's siphoning my petrol! Hey, you!"

There is a muttered curse. A male figure, carrying a gallon petrol tin, jumps to his feet and then trips and falls in front of Lister. It is the tall young man from the pub.

"You little scum!" she exclaims.

"You ugly old tom," he sneers in reply, scrambling to his feet.

Without prelude, Lister snaps her leg out and sweeps his feet from under him. The petrol tin clatters onto the paving as he goes down hard. He moans and tries to stand; Lister leans down and grabs him. Faster than Ann can follow, Lister seizes his arm and turns it so that he is kneeling on the pavement, immobilized and gasping in pain, his arm stretched painfully straight out behind him and held firmly in Lister's grasp.

"What shall I do with this _thief_?" Lister asks. "With this _filth_?" She emphasizes her words with a twist of his arm each time, eliciting yelps of pain from the youth. "Shall I call the police?"

"No! Please!" chokes the young man.

"Shall I break his _arm_?"

Ann breaks in. "No, Anne, don't."

"Shall I dislocate his _shoulder_?"

Ann says, "You've already hurt him. I'm sure he's learned his lesson. Haven't you?"

Lister wrenches his arm again and he gasps, "Yes. Lesson learned."

Lister snarls, "But it would be so much _fun_ to disable him."

"Please let him go," says Ann.

Lister gives his arm one more twist, eliciting a cry of pain, and then releases him. "I'm only letting you go because my friend wishes it." She growls at the boy, who is clearly in agony, "Don't let me _ever_ see you here again."

He turns away, cradling his arm, and hobbles off into the night.

Ann rushes to her and puts her arm around her shoulders. Lister is breathing heavily, her hair in disarray. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, yes, I'm always all right," smiles Lister, combing her hair back into place with her hand. "Unlike him -- he won't be able to use that arm for a week. And look!" She picks up the petrol tin and sloshes it. "No harm done." She uncaps her fuel tank and pours the contents of the tin into her car with a wide grin, listening to it gurgle as it pours in. "In fact," she says, putting the empty tin on the ground and replacing the cap, "We may have more petrol now than when we started out." She sounds exhilarated.

Ann says, "Let's go home straight away. I want to have a look at you and be sure you're all right."

They get into the MG, and as soon as Lister turns the ignition key, they both start laughing uproariously, and giggle all the way back to Lydgate. When they get out in the drive, Ann suddenly stops laughing. "What if he calls the police?" Lister replies, "Absolutely no chance of that. For one thing, he'd have to admit a woman beat him up."

In the drawing room, Ann builds up the fire, makes Lister sit, and has a look at her. She is sweating, and shaking a bit from the adrenaline, but her colour is good and her eyes are bright. Freddy comes and sits next to Lister, putting his chin on her lap and whimpering, and she pats him affectionately. "I'm all right, old chap, no need to worry your furry little head," she murmurs to him.

Ann fetches brandy from the drinks cabinet and pours a good shot into a snifter.

Lister accepts it gratefully and takes a gulp. "I'm fine, not a scratch. What about you?"

Ann says, "Well, I was afraid you'd kill him. I didn't want to have to visit you in prison." Lister laughs. The firelight flickers on her face. She looks a bit savage.

Ann studies Lister. "You actually enjoyed that, didn't you."

Lister nods, and smiles shamefacedly at Ann. Lister says, "Well, now you've seen my untamed brutal side. And yet here you are, anyway. Not afraid?"

Ann kneels next to Lister's chair and says, "I'm not a soap bubble, you know. I'm tougher than I look. You were magnificent. I'm so glad you're all right." Lister puts her arm around Ann and holds her close. They stay like that without speaking for a moment.

Ann disengages and stands up. "You'd better go home. I know better than to ask you for a kiss. Because you'll just say something about the fine print in the bloody contract, which I don't understand, no matter how hard I try, so I'm just going to give up."

Lister stands, too, and stares into the fire. At last, she says in a strained voice, "I have some thinking to do tonight. I see that I've confused you and hurt you -- I never intended that. I promise -- tomorrow, I'll clear it up. One way or another. All right?"

"If you say so," says Ann breezily.

Lister walks to her and gives her a quick, strong hug. "Sleep well," she says. "I'll claim that sketch tomorrow."

"Off you go, then. Good night," says Ann, and walks her to the door. Lister leaves and Ann closes the door behind her. She goes back into the drawing room, pulls out the sketch, and pours herself a large brandy. She stares at the sketch, thinking about Lister, and drinks the brandy moodily.

Freddy comes and leans on her. "What the hell, Freddy," Ann says. "What the hell is it all about, then?" But the dog has no satisfactory answer, and, suddenly exhausted and more than a little drunk, Ann goes to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Here are some wonderful sketches made by a Wren during the war. I modeled Ann's sketches on these: https://bit.ly/2BCfHGK


	8. Friday Morning and Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter and some roses and some running and some rain.

Ann sleeps late. She awakens to the sound of rain, and then the grandfather clock chimes ten, and she immediately feels full of dread.

When she eventually goes downstairs, she smells coffee and -- is that roses?

James greets her in the drawing room, pours her a cup of coffee, and says, “Miss Lister was here, Miss Walker. She said she won’t be working today, but asked you to read the letter as soon as possible,” and indicates a vase of fresh pink roses and an envelope. 

“Thank you very much, James,” Ann says with a forced smile as he leaves. She stares at the envelope as she sips her coffee. The roses smell wonderful and she dimly reflects that they must have cost a fortune, and realizes that Lister must have risen early to obtain and deliver them.

She picks up the envelope and holds it. She senses that it contains a momentous message, and feels a tremor of fear in her stomach. Whatever is in here, her life will be changed by it, she feels this in her core. With a surge of courage driven by curiosity, she picks up a letter knife and slices the envelope open. A three-page letter covered with Lister’s dense handwriting falls out and she reads.

_Dear Ann,_

_I'm truly sorry I didn't take charge of this situation sooner and that I have left you in the dark and feeling confused and upset. Nothing could be farther from my wishes. I am rather more fond of you than seems sensible. I think this fondness made me a bit too shy to speak more forthrightly, and I regret and apologise for this._

_The thing is, when you read the fine print in our contract, you saw a reference to the British Society of Art Appraisers' Code of Ethics. This Code, which I am obligated to follow in all professional matters, is intended to enforce the objectivity of my professional conclusions about the value of your art._

_At this fragile stage in my career, where I have not yet received permanent status, I must be extremely careful about my conduct._

_I am, therefore, forbidden to be engaged in a personal relationship of any kind with you while you are my client._

_I failed to explain this to you earlier simply because it seemed presumptuous for me to assume that you would want to engage in a deeper personal relationship with me. When it became obvious that we both wanted that, I still was unable to name it to you. A lot has happened in these last few days and my rational mind has not caught up with my heart._

_I want so much to help with the valuation of your possessions and, if possible, enable you to retain ownership of your house. I believe that with my specialized knowledge of our region's art and architecture, I am uniquely qualified to help you obtain the best value for your artworks._

_This strong desire has come into conflict with my equally strong desire for a closer relationship with you. I simply cannot make a decision about how to proceed, and this has stopped me in my tracks. It is one of those boundaries that flummox and frustrate me._

_Uncharacteristically, I find myself unable to move in either direction. I absolutely understand that you have been confused, and I am truly sorry for the mixed signals I have been relaying. It is entirely due to my own confusion and indecision._

_When we served together, I was immediately drawn to you. I observed you at work, and came to respect your quiet integrity, your determination to solve problems, your sense of humour in the midst of very trying conditions. In time, I became very fond of you, and of course, as an officer, I could do nothing about it. Here again, I find myself in a similar situation in regard to you. It has not been easy._

_The truth is, you have quite unhinged me and I do not feel in command of my usual faculties. I have strayed from my intention to behave entirely professionally toward you, and for that I am truly, truly sorry. All I can say in my defense is that I simply could not help myself._

_Now that you know the facts, I leave it to you to decide how you wish to proceed. There is nothing to prevent us from continuing our professional relationship, and then we would be free to pursue a closer personal relationship, if you wish it, when the appraisal is finished and my final report issued. I estimate that this will take approximately two more months. (During that time, I think it would be wise for us to avoid any more outings such as those in which we have indulged this week.) Perhaps waiting for two months would be easy enough for you. I don’t know._

_I don't want to invade your privacy so am going to go for a walk now and will linger in the copse of oaks at the end of the main path for half an hour or so, starting at eleven, should you wish to discuss this. Otherwise, I will resume work on Monday as usual and will resolve to observe completely professional behaviour until our project is finished._

_I do hope that this does not embarrass or disconcert you._

_I also hope you realise that I hold you in very high regard indeed. I can hardly overstate this. Most sincerely, A.L._

Ann throws the letter down and rushes out to the hall. The grandfather clock says that it is twenty past eleven. She pulls on her raincoat, ignores Freddy's pleading barks and shuts the door on him as she dashes down the lane toward the copse, which she knows is a good ten minutes' walk away.

Running as fast as she has since basic training, she rushes down the lane, blind to the rain, to the wet pavers beneath her shoes, to the sodden landscape, to everything except the shape of the terrain as she at last nears the copse, straining her eyes to discern among the trees the dove-grey raincoat and black umbrella that she hopes to see any moment, and then she rounds the last bend and there, from a small rise, she looks down and can see that raincoat, that umbrella, striding away from her, and she pauses to catch her breath and then runs down the hill. Ann shouts, with the last of her breath, “Anne!” The umbrella turns toward her. Ann runs ahead, gasping, and Anne Lister strides to meet her, holding the umbrella out to shelter her.

Ann rushes under it. Breathing hard, she grasps Anne Lister's lapels. They stare at each other, Ann no longer afraid, but trembling with the weight of the change that is about to happen in both their lives.

Summoning enough breath to speak, she tightens her grip on Lister’s lapels. "Anne Lister, you are hereby sacked and are no longer in my employ," she pants. "May I kiss you now, pl---"

Anne Lister doesn't wait for the end of the sentence, but bends Ann backward, sweeping her into a deep, passionate kiss, crushing her ribs, enveloping her, turning her head to make the kiss even deeper, kissing her thirstily, kissing Ann as she has never been kissed or even imagined being kissed -- and then eventually pulling back, as Ann gasps. Putting her lips to Ann's ear, she breathes, with a catch in her voice, "When do the servants leave?"

Ann says, "They've already gone."

Lister says, "Well then, Miss Walker, shall we get out of this beastly weather and think about lighting a fire?"

Side by side, looking like any two friends out for a walk, they stride back to Lydgate in the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have read this far and may be curious about a bit of the background for my imaginings --
> 
> Here are two photos of my Aunt Mim, in her Wrens uniform and (possibly under the influence) in civilian life: https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B1RzQDLoaW64Qm5ReHdXTXJYOE5mNUhOMWlpbThGQWdkaG1V
> 
> These two photos are of Benno, the model for Freddy. Benno was the beloved Alsatian who lived with Aunt Mim and her sister, (my mum), when they were teenagers during the war: 
> 
> https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B1RzQDLoaW64MFE4YWZMb0drd3QxY0ZzVkRxWXlhamRsZFNZ  
https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B1RzQDLoaW64dHA3UVVWZXNxM3REaEhibVN4VTZnbmd3ZWJN


	9. Friday Afternoon and Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I deserve a medal, honestly."

They stumble in the front door of the house like two drunks. Freddy, barking happily, assaults them and they laugh as they fend him off.

Ann says, "He'll be wild if he hasn't been out all morning."

Lister says, "He'll be all right," and opens the front door for him. He springs outside like a puppy.

They tear off their raincoats and throw them onto the hat rack. Ann stares at Anne Lister; they are both breathing hard. Lister looks cautious, her brown eyes narrowed in concern. Ann laughs at her. "You look worried! What's the matter?"

Lister smiles her dazzling smile and says, "Nothing. Nothing at all. I just can't believe…"

Ann takes a step towards her and puts her cold hand on Lister's warm cheek. Lister puts her arm gently around Ann's waist. They tilt their heads toward each other; their foreheads touch delicately. For a moment they stand there, eyes closed. It is as if they are at the edge of a cliff and in a moment they will jump off, but they owe it to this moment to savour and prolong it. Their breaths slow, become regular and calm.

Ann is the one to break the silence. She leans back and opens her eyes to find Lister staring at her. Those brown eyes. She could drown in them. "I can't believe it, either. Is it real?"

Very slowly, as if underwater, Anne Lister draws her closer, putting a hand on the back of Ann's neck and tilting Ann's head. Ann moans as Anne Lister's lips touch her lips. Lister nibbles gently there, then Ann's mouth falls open as Lister's tongue finds hers. This time it is Lister who moans. They stand there in the chilly hallway, kissing and kissing -- lips, mouth, cheeks, ears. Ann feels she will never have enough of this -- this new thing, that she has dreamed of so many times, but which is so much more powerful than anything she ever imagined. She wants to give herself totally to this moment and to this woman. Her knees tremble; she clings to Lister's shoulders. At last, Lister pulls away, laughing.

"It's freezing out here. Why don't you let the dog in and I'll see to the fire."

Ann calls Freddy and he bounds in, soaking wet. She towels him off and joins Lister in the drawing room. Lister is kneeling with the poker, bringing the fire back to life. Ann feels suddenly shy. Freddy goes to Lister and leans on her.

"Oh, lovely, a nice wet dog," says Lister, rising. "Sit and stay." The dog, panting, obeys. Lister turns to Ann and takes both her hands. "Look," she says, slowly, looking down at their hands. Ann is surprised to see her looking unsure of herself. "I have an idea, but if you don't like it, tell me right away, I won't be bothered."

"What is it?"

"Well, first of all, if you feel like it, I would very much like to take you to bed."

A lightning bolt goes through Ann's heart and loins. "Yes, please," she says, as calmly as she can. "As long as you understand that I don't have a clue what to do."

Lister smiles. "That doesn't bother me in the least." Suddenly, she looks shy, and avoids Ann's eyes. "Look, I really do want you to know that this isn't a…trivial, fly-by-night thing for me." She coughs nervously, and grips Ann's hands harder. "When you served under me, I had to fight hard to keep my composure and ensure that no one else noticed how much I cared for you."

Ann whispers, "Really? I had no idea at all!"

"I was successful, then. Do you remember that night when you worked with me on the codes, in my office, until after midnight?"

Ann says, "Of course I do."

Lister says, "I still don't know how I managed to focus on the work when you were sitting there looking like an angel. An arm's length away. And at about ten we sent for tea, and you brought me my cup and we sat together at my desk." Ann nods, smiling. "And you passed me a biscuit. You have no idea of the titanic effort it took for me to keep myself from grasping your hand -- and the rest of you -- as well as that blasted stale biscuit. There was something in the air that night — an energy….I deserve a medal, honestly, for my restraint." She peeks at Ann's face and sees a reassuring smile.

Ann laughs and says, "I'll phone the Admiralty tomorrow and put in for your medal."

Lister kisses her quickly on the cheek. "All right, then! What I want to propose is this. I love your house. But it's so big and dark and cold. And for our very first time, I'd like us to be someplace more cozy and warm. So I'm wondering if you would like to come and spend the night at my little house. And tomorrow night as well. Perhaps you could get someone to look after Freddy?"

Ann doesn't need to stop and think. "Yes, of course! James would be glad to do it."

Lister looks at her searchingly. "You're not insulted at all? About the house?"

Ann says, "Believe it or not, you are not the first person to notice that Lydgate is big, cold, and dark. I'd absolutely love to come. Give me a few minutes to telephone James and pack a few things."

Lister says, "Of course. Pack just your most comfy relaxing-at-home clothes. Oh, and perhaps one dress in case we want to go back to Bedini's."

Ann drops Lister's hands and throws her arms around her neck. "I can't believe we're calmly discussing details like this when all I want to do is…"

Lister kisses her, hard. Ann's heart thumps. After an indeterminate time, Ann tears herself away and goes to pack and to phone James.

***

Lister opens the car door for Ann and puts her bag in the boot. During the fifteen-minute drive through the darkening afternoon, they neither speak nor touch. An aura of golden, delicate silence envelops them.

They drive to the outskirts of Halifax, to a newer residential neighbourhood, and pull up beside a modest but well-proportioned stone house. Lister opens the car door for Ann and collects her bag.

"You're my very first guest!" she exclaims as she opens the front door of the house, ushers Ann inside, and switches on the lights and turns a dial on the wall. “Central heat,” she says proudly, as a furnace purrs on somewhere below them.

Ann barely has time to register the smell of fresh paint, the colours of bright new curtains, and the sight of comfortable-looking modern furniture, because Lister has dropped her bag and is pushing her against the living-room wall, kissing Ann until her whole body vibrates, leaning into her so that Ann feels every contour of Lister's strong, lean body. Lister runs her hands down Ann's back and cups her buttocks, lifting her even closer. Ann turns her head away from Lister's mouth so she can breathe, and Lister takes advantage of the movement to kiss Ann's neck up and down; Ann feels a hint of teeth. Ann has never felt so aroused in her life.

Lister takes a deep breath and moves back to look at Ann's flushed face. "I'm sorry, I got a bit carried away. I keep forgetting you're new to all this."

Ann feels suddenly shy. "I just don't know what I'm meant to do."

Lister smiles rakishly. "Just keep on being your lovely, gorgeous self. And you absolutely must tell me if anything at all that I do is too fast or too hard or something you don't like. Do you promise?" Ann nods. Lister says, backing away, "Good. Good. Well, how about a cup of tea? Or -- is it too early for a cocktail? Would you like a tour of the house?"

Ann moves to her and puts a hand on Lister's cheek. Looking her in the eyes, she says, "There's only one thing I want to see in this house and that's your bedroom."

Lister bites her own bottom lip and smiles. Then she grasps Ann's shoulders and stares at her. "After all this time -- I can hardly believe it. Here you are, through this odd turn of events, under my roof, about to become my lover -- "

Ann says, "I've been your lover for a long time, Anne, in my heart. Since my first day at the base. Since you addressed us new recruits that morning, telling us about the role we would play in the war effort. I felt I would happily die for you." She pauses. "Well -- I imagine we'll have lots of time to tell all these stories, won't we?"

"Yes, of course," Lister replies.

"Well, then, where is this bedroom of yours, and shall we go there straightaway?"

**

Lister's bedroom has soft lighting, navy blue and sea green furnishings, and a huge bed covered with a fluffy white duvet.

Lister opens an adjacent door. "Bathroom and WC," she says. "Would you like to use?"

"Yes please," Ann says, and takes her bag into the warm bathroom. She peels off her stockings and skirt and blouse and, after a moment's hesitation, her underthings as well. She washes, and dries herself on a luxuriously soft white towel, and puts on her rather nice sky-blue satin nightgown.

Realizing that she is about to cross over an invisible boundary into a new world, she looks at herself in the mirror. "I'll look different tomorrow," she thinks, with awe. Her heart is racing, but she is not afraid. She wonders what has happened to her timidity, her self-doubt. She is so sure of this.

She opens the door and steps into the bedroom, illuminated now only by a dozen or so small candles on various surfaces around the room, and heated by an electric fire. Anne Lister finishes lighting the last of the candles and turns to see Ann.

"Good Lord," she breathes. "Just a moment. Please don't go anywhere," and in turn she disappears into the bathroom.

Ann climbs onto the luxurious bed and sinks into the duvet. She is vibrating like a tuning-fork. She realizes she wouldn't change places with anyone on earth right now. 


	10. Friday Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Take this off."

A few minutes go by – three? twenty? -- Ann has no idea. She is in a new realm. Then the bathroom door opens.

Anne Lister is briefly backlit, then she turns the bathroom light off and is illuminated only by the candlelight in the bedroom. She is wearing black silk pyjamas with a mandarin collar. Her eyes are dark pools and her hair falls over half her forehead. For a moment, as she approaches the bed, Ann feels a frisson of fear. Then her eyes adjust to the dark room and she sees Anne Lister's eager smile and feels all right again.

"Comfy?" asks Anne Lister. Ann just reaches out her hand. Anne Lister takes it and lies down on the bed. She gazes at Ann's form in the satin nightgown and sighs. Ann props herself up on one elbow and leans over to kiss Lister. As they kiss, Lister runs her hand over Ann's back and bottom, caressing her gently. Ann shivers and Lister stops.

Lister asks, concern in her voice -- "Is this all right?"

Ann pulls back and looks into Lister's eyes, marveling at her own courage as she speaks -- slowly, softly, with certainty. “I’m not a soap bubble. You say you keep bumping into borders and boundaries. Well, you’re not going to find any here. I want to be the place in your life where you don't have to hold yourself back. I love your strength. I want to feel it. ”

Lister stares at her in fierce awe. "Not a soap bubble. Roger that."

Ann lies down on her side facing Lister, pauses, and whispers, "Don't hold back. Take me.”

Lister pulls Ann roughly toward her. Lister’s mouth descends on Ann’s, possessing her mouth, biting her lip. She reaches into the top of Ann’s nightgown and releases Ann’s breast; the nipple stands erect and Lister puts her mouth to it, growling deep inside herself. Ann is pierced with astonishing pangs of pleasure. Lister sucks her nipple harder, and Ann rocks from the force of it. Lister tries to reach further under the nightgown, is stopped by the material.

“Take this off,” Lister orders impatiently, and between them they wrestle the nightgown off and Lister throws it to the floor.

Lister gazes at Ann, running her eyes and her hand up and down Ann’s body. Ann feels suddenly very naked and without intending to, moves to cover herself with her arm. Lister grasps her arm and pins it to the bed. “Let me see you,” she rasps. Ann forces herself to lie still, feeling Lister’s strength holding her in place as she continues to look hungrily at Ann’s body, Lister's expression almost feral.

Lister sighs deeply and brings her mouth again to Ann’s breast, at the same time reaching up to the other breast and firmly caressing the nipple, pinching it. Ann arches up off the bed with the intensity. She struggles against Lister’s arm but is held firmly in place. Lister laughs deep within her throat and continues to rub one nipple between her fingers while sucking harder on the other. At the same time, she slips her thigh between Ann's, and presses it higher.

Ann is moaning aloud now and starting to thrash about as Lister increases the intensity of her attentions to Ann's breasts. It is unbearable and delectable in equal measure. Then suddenly it is too much. "Stop for a minute," she implores. Lister releases her arm and leaves Ann’s breasts, moving upwards and finding Ann’s ear. She bites hard on the lobe, making Ann moan with some combination of fear and desire. They are both starting to be damp with sweat. The salty smell mingles with the scent of spruce and lavender.

Ann runs her hands over Lister’s body, marveling at the strength and the heat there, then begs, “Take off your pyjamas so I can really feel you." She sits up and starts unbuttoning Lister's pyjama jacket and Lister lies back to let her.

Just as Ann has the last button undone, Lister pulls Ann on top of her. "Kneel over my hips," Lister orders. Ann does so. Her hands are on either side of Lister's head, her knees on the bed straddling Lister. She looks down at Anne Lister's torso, revealed in the candlelight, her large, firm breasts a few inches from her own.

"Now you can easily move away if things get too intense again," whispers Lister, placing her hands on Ann's breasts again and squeezing, causing Ann to gasp. Lister raises her head up to suck again at Ann's breast, a little more gently this time. Ann starts to rock back and forth, and Lister continues to suckle as she reaches down to caress and pinch Ann's buttocks, and then stroke her inner thighs, and then to touch her between her legs, moaning when she feels how wet Ann is. Lister presses there, softly at first, then harder. Ann feels electrified; a jolt of desire plunges through her as she pushes against Lister's hand. "Yes," she gasps.

Lister raises her head to look deeply into Ann's eyes. "It excites me more than I can say to know this is your first time. That I am your first. This will probably hurt, and you'll just have to tell me when it's too much." She pauses. "I'm going to fuck you now." Ann challenges herself to keep meeting Lister's gaze, and tries to relax. Ann holds Lister's gaze for another moment and then has to close her eyes because Lister is exploring Ann's entrance with one finger and then very gently penetrating her. Ann is shocked at the intensity of having her body invaded, but moves past that as Lister thrusts harder into her.

Ann rocks in rhythm with the thrusts and then Lister adds a second finger, filling Ann up. It hurts quite a lot, but the intensity of it is more powerful than the pain, and as the thrusting grows stronger and more regular, Ann collapses onto her elbows, unable to hold herself up any more. Lister turns her over so Ann is lying on her back, and continues to fuck her. Ann responds to every thrust of Lister’s hand with a sharp exhale and an answering thrust of her hips, meeting Lister’s hand as she fucks her harder and harder now, making audible smacks as her hand meets Ann’s center, panting with the exertion.

Ann makes an animal noise and Lister whispers, “All right?”

Ann pulls a fistful of Lister's hair and moans, "I don't know. I don't know anything. I just don't want you to stop, ever."

At this, Lister lowers herself onto Ann, giving her full weight to Ann as she kisses her, invading Ann's mouth with her tongue as she relentlessly fucks her. Ann is possessed, wild, feeling that parts of herself will spin off if this continues.

And then Lister moves her thumb to Ann's clitoris and rubs it very gently, circling out and away and back again, gently at first and then a bit more firmly, and Ann's world fills with brilliant swirling colours.

Ann moves desperately against Lister's hand, tearing her mouth away from Anne Lister’s lips, crying out her name. Lister moves down Ann's body, kissing every inch, and then moves her body down and lowers her head between Ann's legs, leaving one hand to caress Ann's breast. Ann is shocked by the arrival of Lister's tongue and shies away for a moment, but Lister pursues her and locks her mouth onto Ann’s erect little pearl.

Lister plunges her fingers into Ann, fucking her in a regular rhythm while licking and sucking her slowly and precisely. Ann thrashes desperately. She is being swept away by these intense sensations, by the contrast between the violent fast fucking and the delicate slow licking, by the power and skill of this woman, and now, almost immediately, she is on the edge, and Lister continues to pump into her and lick her, and she is climaxing now, grunting wordlessly, feeling her inner walls clamping powerfully on Lister's fingers. She is rising off the mattress, rocketing into space, to a realm where there are no thoughts, no words. And then she collapses, and Lister stops moving in her. Ann shudders deeply as aftershocks rock through her and then she is floating in utter peace.

Lister gradually withdraws her fingers and lets her be, kissing her belly lightly and moving to rest next to her, holding her very gently as they both remember how to breathe.

To her own shock, Ann feels a tidal wave of grief wash over her, and an overwhelming need to weep. She dissolves in sobs, and Lister reaches to the bedside table for a large handkerchief, which Ann uses to hide her face and mop the tears. Lister holds her as she sobs. Finally, the sobs die down and Ann asks, “Why am I crying? I’m so happy.”

Lister turns Ann over to face her. She kisses Ann’s damp face. “It’s a mystery, isn’t it.”

Ann stares at her. “Was I all right? Did I make too much noise?”

Lister smiles, with a hint of sadness in her eyes, a painful sort of wonder, Ann thinks. “You were absolutely perfect. You are absolutely perfect.”

Ann feels the tears coming again, and clings to Lister, saying “I had no idea what it would be like.” Lister caresses her gently, humming soothing sounds.

Ann searches Lister’s face. “So that’s what it’s all about. All the poetry and…everything that people talk about.” Lister smiles. Then Ann says, “I want to give you the same — I want to do that for you.” Ann reaches to caress the place between Lister’s legs, still pajama-clad, and damp from her own arousal. Very gently, Lister takes her hand away and kisses it.

“Not tonight. Tonight is just for you.”

Ann rests, staring at her in wonderment. “Why did I feel so sad just as I felt so unbelievably happy?”

Lister strokes her face. “I think – we’ve had so much loss. The ones we’ve lost -- we have to believe that we’re honouring them by living our lives to their absolute fullest. Rejoicing in our lives. Don’t you think?”

Ann nods through more tears, and clings to Anne Lister. “Yes. That feels true. Yes.”

They entwine themselves and Ann can feel sleep starting to come. She doesn’t want to leave this moment, and fights to stay awake, but then Lister starts very gently rubbing her back.

In a harsh whisper, Lister says, "Thank you so much for this -- for letting me -- for accepting all of me. For taking me as I am."

Ann's eyes have closed and she feels herself drifting, but from her half-asleep place, she strokes Anne Lister's cheek and says, "If we play our cards right, perhaps we can liberate each other altogether. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Ann feels herself surrendering to the gentle caresses soothing her back. She thinks she feels a drop of warm liquid -- a tear? -- falling on her shoulder.

With her last ounce of energy, she mumbles, “Told you I wasn’t a soap bubble.” And then she thinks to herself that she is finally really and truly warm. And she falls into deep, warm, long sleep.


	11. Saturday, All Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can’t help it. It’s like … the color of my eyes. Part of me. For ever, I expect.”

Ann awakens to the distant clanks of pots and pans and the smell of coffee, coming from downstairs in the kitchen. Grey morning light is filtering in through the linen curtains.

She forces herself to get up, and goes to the bathroom, where she discovers that she is quite sore. She bites her lip at the memory of last night's furious activity. A wave of intense shyness washes over her -- the thought that she has shared so much of herself, so intimately, with another person, let alone the person she looked up to and admired for such a long time. She wonders how she will ever be brave enough to go downstairs.

Lister's Black Watch tartan dressing-gown hangs on a hook and Ann decides it would probably be all right to put it on. She does -- it is too big, and she turns the cuffs up and washes her face.

As she is drying herself, she remembers what she had thought last night and looks carefully in the mirror to see if she indeed looks any different now that she is no longer a virgin. Possibly a slightly bruised look under her eyes? But that often happens after a night with less sleep than usual. Otherwise, the same features are looking back at her.

But she feels so different. Changed inside. She whispers to herself, "I've made love with a woman. I love a woman." Merely saying the words aloud makes her feel like a building that has just sustained an earthquake and could crumble into dust any moment. She will need a lot of time to understand what this means in her life and how she thinks of herself.

She goes back into the bedroom and hears Lister climbing the stairs. She suddenly feels very nervous and tries to think how to compose her face.

"Knock, knock," says Lister from the landing, and then the bedroom door swings open and there is Lister, wearing dungarees, a well-worn denim shirt, and a blue-and-white striped apron. Her hair is pulled back and tied at the nape. Ann can't help thinking how handsome she looks.

Lister smiles tentatively and holds out a steaming mug. "Good morning," she says, and continues at a fast clip. "I think I remember you like coffee in the morning, but if not, I also made tea and can easily bring you a cup -- and for that matter, I have both Darjeeling and Orange Pekoe, in case you have a preference."

Ann notices how rapidly Lister is talking, and the unbelievable thought occurs to her that perhaps Lister, too, is feeling shy.

She says, "Oh, thank you so much, I do like coffee in the morning." She takes the mug and hides her face in it, drinking the coffee with gratitude. Lister stands awkwardly watching her.

Ann swallows, looks up, and says, "Oh, I forgot to bring a dressing-gown with me -- I hope you don't mind that I've borrowed yours. I would have asked you but, well, there it was, and I was a little bit cold, not that your house is cold, really it's deliciously warm…"

Lister smiles that wonderful wide smile of hers and Ann starts to remember why she is there at Lister's house in the first place. "Mind? That old thing has never looked so lovely as it does right now with you in it."

Lister steps towards her and gently takes the mug away, placing it on the bedside table. Asking permission with a raise of her eyebrows, she slowly and carefully wraps her arms around Ann, and Ann relaxes into the embrace. Lister kisses her ear, and quietly says, "That was a big night for both of us. I'm feeling a bit shy with you."

Ann leans into Lister's warmth and laughs with relief, and then Lister laughs and says, as she pulls away, "Do come down as soon as you feel like it -- I'm making vast quantities of bacon and toast, and I'm so hungry I'm going to start devouring things as soon as they're cooked. And baked beans. Oh, and eggs. Don't dress, come as you are."

Lister thunders back down the stairs. Ann, feeling a little bit more comfortable, picks up her nightgown from the floor -- remembering with a blush how it got there -- and puts it on, deciding that it is adequate garb for breakfast. She puts the robe on over it, and then searches her bag for a pair of warm socks, and puts them on as she finishes the coffee, which is astonishingly delicious and rich -- nothing like the swill she has become accustomed to. Suddenly she is absolutely ravenous, and goes downstairs, empty mug in hand.

The kitchen is cozy and bright . The floor is made of brick-coloured tiles, and there are red curtains at the window, and yellow flowers on the table in a cut-glass vase. Lister indicates a chair at the small table. It is set for a meal, with royal-blue plates and matching linen napkins. She says, "Please, sit."

Ann sits, mesmerized by the cooking smells. With a flourish, Lister serves her a plate heaped with food, and then takes her mug and refills it with coffee and, handing it to her, says "Dive in, please."

Ann cuts into a rasher of bacon and closes her eyes in ecstasy as she chews the thick, fatty meat. Lister comes to sit at the table and, noticing, says "From Jackson's farm, just down the road. Not bad, eh? There's lots more, just help yourself."

Lister has her own mountain of food, and for quite a long time they just eat, stealing glances at each other from time to time. Ann feels both magnetized by Lister -- wanting to stare at her in her worker's shirt and pulled-back hair -- and at the same time, intensely uncomfortable sitting there in the presence of this stranger who -- astonishingly -- knows Ann in such an intimate way.

Finally, Lister exhales with a big sigh, leans back in her chair, and says, "Oof, I was absolutely starving, weren't you?" Ann nods and replies, "Everything is absolutely delicious."

Lister looks at her and says, "I just want to feed you up. You're so thin. All these years of rationing have made food so difficult, haven't they. I'm determined, like Scarlett O'Hara, to never be hungry again."

"Yes," says Ann, feeling impossibly clumsy and inarticulate.

Lister, noticing, says, "Would you like a bath? Or shall we talk over what to do today? What's your preference?"

Ann is silent, thinking, and Lister gently takes her hand on the tabletop. "My dear Ann, is something troubling you? Please tell me."

Ann says, her voice trembling, "I'm so sorry but I think I should go home. Freddy's probably wondering where I am. I hardly ever leave him. He probably thinks he's done something wrong." To her horror, she realizes she has started crying, and pulls her hand away from Lister's.

Lister stands, awkward, her posture stiff. "I see." Her voice turns hard. "Well, whatever you like." She starts gathering dishes and taking them to the sink. "Let me know when you want to leave," she adds, over her shoulder, as she starts to run water over the dishes. "I'll drive you."

Lister starts crashing the pots and plates quite loudly in the sink and Ann feels rather scared but then Lister stops and stands slumped, leaning on the counter with both hands, and her head hanging down in a posture of defeat.

Ann can tell from the bend of Lister’s back that she is terribly hurt. She would like to flee but she gathers her courage and stands and walks over to Lister, touching her tentatively on the back.

“I’m awfully sorry to have upset you, Anne,” she says.

Without turning, Lister says, “I know, I’m too much for you. I’m too much everywhere and with everyone.”

“No, Anne! You’re not too much! You’re lovely! Please look at me!” Lister dashes tears from her eyes and turns. They are both teary now.

Ann takes Lister’s hand in both of hers. “I think I’m just overwhelmed by a lot of new feelings. I didn’t stop to think about your feelings and now I feel like an idiot. Please forgive me.”

Lister closes her eyes. “I -- last night -- shall we go and sit down?”

Ann leads her into the living room and they sit near each other on the grey couch. Lister takes a deep breath. “Last night --. I know it was probably significant to you because it was your first time and….”

Ann squeezes Lister’s hand hard and interrupts. “Yes, but -- much more than that. It was significant -- it was the world to me -- because… I’m in love with you and I’ve never been in love with anyone. It’s a very big feeling and I can hardly hold it in myself. I feel too small.”

There is a silence as Lister looks down at their hands.

Then Lister laughs a bit and says, “This is a fine state of affairs. I feel too big and you feel too small.” She smiles ruefully. “What shall we do?”

Ann moves closer to her. They lean gently on each other. Lister looks sideways at Ann, almost shyly. “Is that really true?”

Ann says, “Is what really true?”

“That you’re -- you know -- in love with me.”

Ann laughs. “Isn’t it absolutely obvious?”

Lister says, “I don’t know. Other people have said things like that and then -- well, it became evident that they actually weren’t.”

Ann says, “Well, I am, I can’t help it. It’s like … the color of my eyes. Part of me. For ever, I expect.”

There is a long silence. Lister’s breathing is sporadic, as if she is struggling for her next breath. She clutches Ann’s hand harder. Ann says, “Anne. I’m so sorry people have hurt you.”

Lister groans, “I don’t even blame them. It’s not easy being like us. Sapphists. Inverts. And it apparently isn’t easy being my lover -- at home it might be, but out in the world -- not everyone has the courage to be seen with me.”

Ann reaches over and takes Lister’s chin in her hand and turns Lister’s head so they are looking at each other. The brown eyes are sad and the generous mouth is strained with pain. “I have the courage, Anne. I’d be ever so proud to be seen with you anywhere. Anywhere on earth.”

Lister gives her a sad smile and turns away again. “You think so.”

Ann says, a strong edge coming into her voice, “I know so. Try me.”

Lister leans into her and says, “I want so badly to believe it. Last night was ... extraordinary for me. In a way, it was my first time as well. The way you received me -- all of me -- all of my too-bigness. It touched me to my core. Truly. I can't even describe.... Such a mountain-top experience. I will never forget it.

"But now in the morning, it feels fragile, as if I might have made a mistake -- oh, I can’t express it.”

“That’s all right,” says Ann, reassuringly.

“Is it? That I'm babbling incoherently?”

“Yes,” says Ann. "Yes."

“Do you still want to go home?”

“No, no. I don’t know why I -- now all I want is to be with you, spend the day at your side. Can we do that?”

Lister turns and rises to her feet and pulls Ann to hers. “Yes,” she says.

“There's just one thing,” says Ann -- and Lister’s face falls -- “I do miss my dog and want to get him. Can we do that? Would it be all right?” Lister breaks into a huge smile. To Ann, it is as if the sun has come out.

“If you’re nice to me.”

“I’ll be very, very nice to you,” says Ann.

Lister bends down and kisses Ann all over her face. Ann grabs her chin and kisses her deeply on the mouth. Lister returns the kiss, not with the passion of last night but with a considerate, wondering, exploring gentleness that again brings tears to Ann’s eyes. She feels a glow, as if from a captive sun, expand in her chest.

When at last they break apart, she sees that Lister has tears in her eyes as well.

Exasperated, Ann says, “We have got to stop all this crying.”

Lister, wiping tears away, says “I never cry. What on earth are you talking about?"

Ann says, “Oh, I don’t believe you for a minute. I expect you cry at the tiniest thing.”

Lister says, “There is only one cure for this.”

Ann replies, “Oh, no, I really am quite sore...”

Lister hugs her delightedly. “I was going to suggest a hot bath for you and then let’s go and pick up Freddy. It’s a perfect day for a good long walk in the park. We don’t have to talk much.”

Ann says, “I’ll go and phone James and tell him I’m picking Freddy up, then I’ll have a quick bath. All right?”

“All right. I’ll be in the garden doing a little job with some fallen limbs from the tree, so give me a shout when you’re ready, would you?”

***

Ann phones James, and then she draws a hot bath and lowers herself gratefully into the deep tub. She washes slowly, keeping her mind as blank as possible. As she rinses, dries, and dresses in her favourite walking skirt and top, she focuses on thinking about Freddy and how happy he will be to see her.

As she goes to the landing, Lister comes to the bottom of the stairs. She is holding her right shoulder with her left hand and looks exasperated. Then she notices Ann is watching her, drops her hand, and smiles. "Nice bath?"

Ann agrees, and says as she descends the stairs, "We can pick Freddy up any time, James says."

"Jolly good," says Lister. Their hands reach out and brush as they pass each other. Lister sprints up the stairs. "Changing. Be ready in ten minutes. Perhaps wrap up a snack for us?"

Ann rummages through the pantry and assembles two substantial sandwiches and two apples. She fills a thermos with the leftover coffee from the morning, and puts the food into a rucksack she finds hanging in the foyer.

She then takes the opportunity to look around the house -- the art books by the dozen, in five different languages, jammed into the built-in bookcase by the fireplace, and the novels in English, including one about women in love that Ann knows has been banned since 1928. The few paintings, mainly landscapes, on the walls. The sparse but beautifully designed pieces of furniture. The colourful curtains on every window. She loves all of it.

One narrow wall in the living room has no pictures, and Ann resolves that she will get her sketch of Lister framed on Monday and give it to her as a house-warming gift. It will look lovely on this wall.

Lister descends, dressed now in a black wool skirt and waistcoat and a white woven-wool collared shirt, with walking boots in her hand. Ann thinks she looks impossibly handsome. "Shall we?" asks Lister, lacing up her boots, and they drive into the cloudy afternoon to fetch Freddy.

***

By mid-afternoon, they have gone for a satisfyingly long ramble with Freddy in the North Dean Woods, an old park seemingly designed just for the three of them, with its huge ancient trees and countless intertwined paths.

They walk through the cool afternoon without talking for most of the time, aware of each other but in their own places of silence and reflection. Every now and then one of them will call to Freddy or point out an interesting view, but then the soothing silence comes upon them again. They eat their picnic quietly, seated on a log, sharing the Thermos cup.

Freddy is beside himself with joy at the outing and to have all the human attention. He, too, seems to be in love with Lister. They stop in a field when they are back near the car park, and Lister throws a stick for him for the twentieth time when Ann notices her wincing. "What is it?"

"Damned nuisance. Old bicep tendon injury. Sprained it this morning breaking up those tree limbs. Nothing to worry about."

"Perhaps I could give it a rub later," says Ann. "I trained a bit in therapeutic massage at the beginning of the war."

Lister says, "Oh, thanks, probably won't need it. Awfully good of you to offer, though."

They take Freddy back to Lydgate House. They go inside and when he sees that Ann and Lister are going to leave him there, he starts to whistle and whine piteously. Lister puts her fists on her hips and stands looking at him, then says, "Oh, all right. Bring your dirty muddy paws and nose to my house. Ann, let's pack up some food and things for him, shall we?"

Ann embraces Lister. "Are you sure? In your beautiful new house?"

Lister sighs but says, "Well -- the house needs to be lived in. Who better to spend time in it than this good boy? Come on, Fred."

The dog bounces with joy and gets into the car with them, sitting quietly in the tiny back seat along with the bag of his food and his dinner bowls and favourite blanket.

When they arrive at the stone house, the early winter dusk is setting in and they are a little chilled. Lister lights a fire in the living room fireplace and, after sniffing the entire downstairs and engaging in a splashy interval with his water bowl, Freddy stretches out on the hearthrug and falls fast asleep.

Ann says, "How's the shoulder feeling?"

Lister says, "Oh, it's all right." But when she rotates her arm to demonstrate, she cannot hide the spasm of pain.

"I'd really like to try a little massage on that," says Ann. "Will you let me?"

"Oh, all right, if you really want to," Lister grumbles.

"Do you have any nice oil?" asks Ann, and Lister fetches a small bottle of olive oil from the pantry.

Upstairs, Ann gently helps Lister out of her waistcoat. She unbuttons Lister's shirt and takes it off, and then the skirt as well, leaving her clad in a singlet and panties, and has her lie on the edge of her bed, propped up by pillows and towels. The house is becoming nicely warm, and Ann takes off some of her own woolens. She finds the matches and lights all the candles, then switches off the electric light. She pours a small amount of the oil into her hand to warm it, and starts rubbing the sore tendon tentatively, finding where the place between pain and soothing lies.

Lister moans deeply with pain and relief. Ann continues massaging the arm and shoulder, appreciating the musculature beneath her hands. After a long time, Lister mumbles, "Enough for now, thanks. That was lovely."

Ann replies, "Oh, we're not finished here. Not by a long shot. Up with you."

Slowly, Ann peels the singlet up and Lister lifts herself enough to allow Ann to remove it altogether. Ann pours a little more oil into her hand. As she warms the oil in her hands, Ann becomes short of breath looking at the strong, defined muscles and tendons of Lister's back and shoulders. Standing over her, she proceeds to give Lister a thorough massage. Her kneading is stronger now, her pressure more intense, as she doesn't have to be careful of sore spots. With every touch, Ann feels her knowledge and power growing.

Lister is quiet except for the occasional relaxed moan. Her muscles and curves gleam in the candlelight.

Very gently, Ann takes hold of Lister's panties and pulls them down, revealing Lister's buttocks, massaging them in turn, eventually pulling the panties off all the way. Ann devotes herself to Lister's buttocks, kneading and stroking them in a devoted trance.

Lister starts to move with her, thrusting her crotch into the pillows. Ann moves down to Lister's thighs, and then returns upwards. Ann gently pulls Lister's legs apart, and thoroughly massages the inside of Lister's thighs. She is feeling powerful and strong, but wonders if she is brave enough to caress Lister's most private part. This is unexplored territory. She fears making a mistake, or even that her advances will be unwelcome. Then she thinks about her wish for courage, and her desire to return to Lister some of the joy Lister gave her so freely the night before.

Ann continues to rub and caress the insides of Lister's thighs, and gradually works her way down between Lister's legs. An abundance of wetness tells her that her attentions there are not unwelcome, but she asks anyway -- "Is this all right?"

Lister groans "Ohh yes," so quietly that Ann can hardly hear her. Ann continues to massage Lister's buttocks with her left hand, while delving into Lister's most private folds with her right. Though quickly realizing that their bodies are somewhat different, she lets her instincts take over, and explores until she finds Lister's clitoris. The rhythmic movements of Lister's hips show her that she is doing well. She rubs very slowly, and then a bit harder, and then a bit harder still, and then learns that what Lister likes best is for Ann to hold her hand flat and still and firm against her vulva so that Lister can grind against it. Ann feels a surge of powerful pleasure as she feels Lister's groans.

Marveling at her own audacity, Ann says, "Hold on," and strips off the rest of her clothes. She gets onto the bed and, straddling Lister's leg, she starts again pressing Lister's most sensitive part until Lister is biting the pillow and moving her hips rhythmically. 

Ann then leans down on an elbow until her mouth is right next to Lister's ear, and whispers, "Remember last night, when you were fucking me? Were you watching my face? Do you remember how I looked? Do you remember how strong you were?" Lister is writhing now. Smiling to herself, Ann presses her a little bit more firmly, and bites the edge of Lister's ear very lightly.

Ann whispers into Lister's ear again, "Remember how loudly I cried out? Because you were touching me at my core, fucking me deep inside, no one ever did that before, you were the first, and I could feel how strong you were, and you filled me up with your power."

Ann is swept up in Lister's arousal, though part of her is standing back and marveling at this astounding new vocabulary that seems to be coming so easily to her lips. She is carried along by the strength of Lister's thrusting; she rides Lister's hip. Ann whispers, gasping now, "Remember how excited I was when you were sucking my breasts and fucking me at the same time? Remember how wild you made me?"

Lister cries out, moving faster and faster against Ann's hand. She is slick with sweat and oil.

Ann whispers, "You fucked me until I came, and you were hurting me but I didn't care because you were all I wanted, I wanted to take all of you inside me. I wanted all of you, all of you, every bit, and you fucked me so hard, Anne."

Lister rocks and moans and climaxes, trapping Ann's hand between her slick hot legs. Deep shudders pass through her body. Ann rides with her, lying half on Lister's heaving body, until the spasms stop.

Lister turns over onto her back. Ann sits up in the bed to look at her. Lister gleams in the candlelight and she smells of sex and oil and sweat. Her hair has long since come loose from its tie. Her hair is plastered to her face and neck by her sweat. She is the most beautiful creature Ann has ever seen.

Lister stares at Ann, her chest still heaving, her hand on Ann's arm, her expression one almost of anguish. Ann's breath catches as she sees tears arise in Lister's eyes. She pulls the sheet over both of them and they lie there in the late afternoon dark, holding each other tightly.

After some time has passed, Ann is quite uncomfortable -- she feels sticky and cold. "Well," she says, "I am thinking about another bath. What are you thinking about?"

Lister rolls over and props herself on her elbow to look down at Ann. Ann lifts her hand to touch Lister's face but Lister catches the hand and raises it to her lips. Looking Ann in the eyes, she thoughtfully, carefully bites the back of each of Ann's fingers in turn, giving Ann shivers, and then, still looking deeply into her eyes, turns the hand over and kisses the palm in a way that Ann can only think of as worshipful, though she knows that's not quite accurate. She feels Lister's lips, tongue, teeth on her palm and wrist and fingers. The captive sun inside her surges, breaks open, burns and glows. She pulls her hand away, grasps a handful of Lister's damp hair, and brings Lister's mouth to her own. The kiss, too, feels worshipful. It goes on and on.

Lister at last breaks away and, tracing Ann's eyebrows with a fingertip, says, with wonderment on her face and a choke in her voice, "Good Lord. I am in love with you. Ann. I love you."

Ann stays silent for a long moment, gazing into the brown eyes. The captive sun in her chest heats the whole world.

At last she says, "My dear one. Anne. I have to bathe. Why don't you come with me."

They put towels on the floor and run hot water into the tub. They dip flannels into it and share the soap, washing each other tenderly, thoroughly, and then rinsing and drying each other, in the candlelight. For a while, there is no need for words.

Then, as she towels her hair, Lister says, "I wonder what time it is."

Ann says, "It's about six, I think. What shall we do for dinner?"

Lister says, "Bedini's?" Ann shakes her head.

Lister responds, "We'll stay here."

Ann says, "We'll eat whatever is in the pantry."

Lister replies, "With our hands, if we feel like it."

Ann says, "Yes. With our hands."

They laugh and put on their nightclothes. Downstairs, Freddy can hardly believe his good fortune when they both enter the kitchen, calling him a good dog and giving him scraps of meat.

Lister builds a fire in the living-room fireplace while Ann pulls food out of the pantry and sets it on the counter. And then the two women piece together a meal of leftovers, and eat it all with deep delight.

***

There will be time, Ann knows -- time to talk about the house and the art, and time to travel to the ancient cities and see what remains to be salvaged from the ruins. Time to bake on sunny beaches and to climb mountains. Time to make a circle of loyal friends. Time to learn how to love each other into wholeness, ever closer to their heart's desires. There will be time. Right now there is this delicate moment and this love that is being born, and this glorious woman to be known.

Lister pours brandy into snifters.

They sit very quietly together in the living room, sipping brandy and sometimes looking at each other and sometimes looking into the fire.


End file.
